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SERMONS 



ON 



SEVERAL SUBJECTS. 



BY THE RIGHT REVEREND 

BEILBY PORTEUS, D. D. 

BISHOP OF LONDON. 



First American from the Ninth London Edition. 



HARTFORD : 
PRINTED FOR OLIVER D. COOKE, 

BY LINCOLN Sc GLEASON. 



1806, 






'45 

Nt 28 1945 

Serial Record Division 
TkiLilnr;$iC«iigrHS 



Copy 



7 i^ 



r 

, TO THE KING. 






57i?, 



X HE only grounds on which I can presume to entreat 
Your Majesty's favorable acceptance of this Volume of Sermons 
are, that a great part of them was preached in Your own Royal 
Chapel at St. James' ; and that my intention in publishing them 
was to serve (as far as a situation of much labor and little leisure 
would allow) the cause of that holy religion, to which Your Ma- 
jesty has ever approved Yourself a sincere and cordial friend. 
An intention of this sort, however feebly executed, will, I am per- 
suaded, be considered by Your Majesty as the best and most be- 
coming return I can make, for those spontaneous marks of Your 
goodness to me, which have impressed the warmest sentiments 
of gratitude on the mind of, 
SIR 
Your Majesty's 
Most humble 
and most dutiful 

Subject, and Servant, 

B. Chester. 



CONTENTS, 



SERMON I. 

On the love of God, 
Preached at St. James' Chapel, Feb. 10, 1774. 
Mark xii. 30. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, an4 
with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength ; this 
is the fif St and great commandment. p. ]|. 

SERMON IL 

On the causes of unbelief. 
Preached at St. James' Chapel, 1772. 

John lii. 19. This is the condemnation, that light is come into the world? 
and men loved darkness rg-ther than light, because their deeds were evil. 

p. 13 

SERMON III. 

The fiossibility of resisting temfitation asserted and proved. 
Preached at St. James' Chapel, Feb. 11, 1770. 

James i. 13. Let no nnan say when he is tempted, I am tempted of Qod : 
for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man. p.25. 

SERMON IV. 

The same subject continued-^ and the same text. 

Preached at Lambeth, April 6, 1777. 

p. sa 

SERMON V. VI. VII. 

A summary view of the natural^ moral,, and scriptural evidences of 
a future life,, and a future retribution. 

Enlarged from three sermons, preached at Lambeth, 1774, 1775, 

and 1776. 

IVIatth. XXV. 46. And these shall go away into everlasting punishment * 
but the righteous into life eternal. p. 48, 65 and 7^ 



CONTENTS. V 

SERMON VIII. 

On the advantages of an academical education. 

Preached before the University of Cambridge, on Commence- 
ment-Sunday, July 5, 1767. 
"JTiTus ii. 6. Young men likewise exort to be sober-minded. p. 91 

SERMON IX. 

ji serious and devout observation of the Lord*s Daij enforced. 

Preached at St. James' Chapel, March 18, 1781. 

Peut. y. 12. Keep the Sabbath-day, to sanctify it, as the Lord thy God 
hath commanded thee. P- 107 

SERMON X. 

The doctrine of Christ crucifed no just cause of offence to unbe- 
lievers. 

Preached at St. James' Chapel, March 24, 1782. 

1 Cor. i. 22, 23, 24. The Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek after 
wisdom : but we preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumbling-block, 
and unto the Greeks foolishness ; but unto them which are called, both 
Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God, 

p. 118 

SERMON XI. 

The necessity of national reformation. 

Preached before the Lords spiritual and temporal, on the general 
fast, Feb. 10, 1779. 

Jeremjah xviii. part of the 11th verse. Thus saith the Lord, Behold I 
frame evil against you. Return ye now every one from his evil way, and 
make your ways and your Hningc g^>»od. p. 132 

SERMON XII. 

Christianity vindicated from the charge of cruelty. 

Matth. X, 34. Think not that I am come to send peace on earth : I come 
not to send peace, but a sword. , p. 144 

SERMON XIIL 

The pacific and benevolent temper of the Christian religion^ proved 
from Scripture and from facts. 

Preached at Lambeth Chapel, Dec. 23, 1764. 
Luke ii. 14. On earth peace, good-will towards men. p. 159 

SERMON XIV. 

An immoderate love of diversions inconsistent nvith the duties of a 

Christian. 

Preached at St. James' Chapel, Feb. 10, 1771. 

2 Tim. iii. 4. Lovers of pleasures more than lovers of God. p. 173 



vi CONTENTS. 

SERMON XV. XVI. 

Universal obedience to the latvs oj" Christ necessary to salvation. 

Enlarged from one Sermon, preached at St. James' Chapel, Feb. 

15, 1775. 

James ii. 10. Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one 
point, he is guilty of all. p. 184 and 197 

SERMON XVII. 

The civilization^ imfirove7nent, and conversion of the JVegro^slaves in 

the British West India islands recommended. 

Preached before the Incorporated Society for the propagation of 
the Gospel in foreign parts, Feb. 23, 1783. 

L-PKE iv. 17, 18, 19, 20. And there was delivered nnto him the book of the 
prophet Esaias, and when he had opened the book, he found the plac^ 
where it was written, 

The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach 
the Gospel to the poor, he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to 
preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, tq 
set at liberty them that are bruised ; 

To preach the acceptable year of the Lord. 

And he closed the book, and he gave it again to the minister, and sat down : 
and the eyes of all them that were in the synagogue were fastened on 
him. p. 207 

SERMON XVIII. 

On the nature and the characteristic marks of a Christian friendship. 
Preached at St. James' Chapel, March* 16, 1777. 

John xiii. 23. Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom, one of his disci* 
pies whom Jesus loved. p. 227 

SERMON XIX. 

Cheerfulness a distinguishing feature of the Christian religion. 

Philtppians iv. 4. Rejoice in the Lord alway : and again I say, Re- 
joice, p. 23^ 

SERMON XX. 

On the Christian doctrine of Redemption. 

1 Cor. i. 20. Where is the wise ? where is the scribe ? where is the dispu- 
ter of this world ? hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world ? 

p. 251 



SERMON XXI. 

The same subje-ct continued^ and the same text. 



p. 265 



SERMON XXII. 

Self-communion recommended. 

Psalm iv, 4. Commune with your own heart, and in your chamber, and 
be stiil. p, 279 



CONTENTS. vii 

SERMON XXIII. 

The character of Davids King of Israel, impartially stated. 

1 Sam. xiii. 14. The Lord hath sought him a man after his own heart, 
and the Lord hath commanded him to be captain over his people, p 292 

SERMON XXIV. 

Purity of manners no less necessary to a Christian character than 
benevolence. 

James i. 27. Pure religion, and undefiled before God and the Father, is 
this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their afiUction, and to keep 
himself unspotted from the world. p. 310 

SERMON XXV. 

Preached at the anniversary meeting of the Sons of the Clergy, 
May 9, 1776. 

2. Kings iv. 1. Thy servant my husband is dead, and thou know est 
that thy servant did fear the Lord : and the creditor is come to take unto 
him my two sons to be bond-men. p. 320 

SERMON XXVI. 

JEarly fiiety enforced. 

EccLEsiASTES xii. 1. Remember now thy creator in the days of thy 
youth. p. ^2Ai 

SERMON XXVII. 

Partial faith and partial obedience not permitted by the Christiaft 

religion, 

1 Kings xviii. 21. And Elijah came unto all the people, and said, How 
long halt ye between two opinions ? if the Lord be God, follow him ; 
but if Baal, then follow him. p. 344 

SERMON XXVIII. 

Preached before the House of Lords, January 30, 1778. 

PsAX.M xxii. 28. The kingdom is the Lord's and he is the governor among 
the nations. p. 35S 

SERMON XXIX. 

The superior excellence of Christ^s preaching, and the causes of it 

explained, 

Luke iv. 32. And they were astonished at his doctrine ; for his word was 
with power. p. 365 

SERMON XXX. 

Preached at the yearly meeting of the Charity Schools in the 
Cathedral Church of St. Paul, May 2, 1782. 

Luke vii. 22. Then Jesus answering, said unto them, Go your way, and 
tell John what things ye have seen and heard, how that the blind see, the 
lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the d«af hesyr, the dead are raised, to 
tfee poor the gospel is preached, p. '2>7^ 



viii . CONTENTS. 

SERMON XXXI. 

The government of our passions an indispensable duty. 

^ Cor. ix. 25. Every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate In alt 
things. Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown, but we an in- 
corruptible, p. 388 

SERMON XXXII. 

The character of our Lord, as delinea:ted in the Gospel^ one convin- 
cing proof that he was the Son of God. 
Matthew xxvii. 54. Truly this was the Son of God. p. 398 

SERMON XXXIII. 

Preached at St. Paul's, on the Thanksgiving-day for his Majesty's 
recovery, April 23, 1789. 

Psalm xxvii. 16. O tarry thou the Lord's leisure ; be strong, and he shall 
comfort thine heart ; and put thou thy trust in the Lord. p. 410 

SERMON XXXIV. 

The one thing needful. 

Luke x. 41, 42. Jesus ansvv^ered and said unto her, Martha, Martha, thou 
art careful and ti-oubled about many things : But one thing is needful ; and 
Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from 
her. p. 420 

SERMON XXXV. 
The Tnany various opportunities of doing good. 

Proverbs iii. 27. Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when 
it is in the power of thine hand to do it, p. 433 



SERMON L 



Mark :^ii. 30; 

iChou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy hearty and 'with aU 
thy soul^ and tuith all thy mindy and with all thy strength; 
This is the Jirst commandment. 

THE LOVE OF God, so forcibly inculcated in this 
and other passages of Scripture, is a sentiment 
purely evangelical ; and is one of those many peculiar 
circumstances which so eminently distinguish the doc- 
trines of the gospel from the dry unanimated precepts 
of the ancient heathen moralists. We never hear them 
urging the love of God, as a necessary part of human 
duty, or as a proper ground of moral obligation^ Their 
religion being merely ceremonial and political^ never 
pretended to reach the heart, or to inspire it with any 
vsincerity or warmth of affection towards the Deity ^ 
Indeed how v/as it possible to have any love for such 
gods as they worshipped : for gods debased with eve- 
ry human weakness, and polluted with every human 
vice ? It was enough surely to make the people wor- 
ship such a crew. To have insisted upon iheir loving 
them too, would have exceeded all bounds of modesty 
and common sense. But Christianity having given us 
an infinitely great and good and holy God to worship^ 
very naturally requires from us the purest and devoutcst 
sentiments of affection towards him ; and with great 
justice makes the love of our Mr^ker an indispensibk 

A 



2 SERMON L 

requisite In religion, and the grand fundamental duty 
of a Christian. Surely then it concerns us to enquire 
carefully into the true nature of it. And it concerns 
us the more, because it has been unhappily brought 
into disrepute by the extravagant conceits of a few 
devout enthusiasts concerning it. Of these, some 
have treated the love of God in so mystical and refin- 
ed a way, and carried it to such heights of seraphic 
ecstasy and rapture, that common minds must for ever 
despair either of following or understanding them ; 
whilst others have described it in such warm and in- 
delicate terms, as are much better suited to the gross- 
ncss of earthly passion, than the purity of spiritual 
affection. And what is still more deplorable, the love 
of God has been sometimes made the scourge of man ; 
and it has been thought that the most effectual way to 
please the Creator, was to persecute and torment and 
destroy his creatures. Hence the irreligious and pro- 
lane liave taken occasion tO' treat all pretence to piety 
as fanatical or insincere ; and even many of the wor- 
diier part of mankind have been afraid of giving way 
to the least warmth of devout affection towards the 
great Author of their being. But let not the sincere 
Christian be scared out of his duty by such vain ter- 
rors as these. The accidental excesses of this holy 
sentiment can be no just argument against its general^ 
excellence and utility. As the finest intellects are 
most easily disordered and overset ; so the more gen- 
erous and exalted our affections are, the more liable 
are they to be perverted aad depraved. We know that 
even friendship itself has sometimes been abused to 
the most unworthy purposes, and led men to the com- 
mission of the most atrocious crimes. Shall we there- 
fore utterly discard that generous passion, and consid- 
er it as nothing more than the unnatural fervor of a 
romantic imagination ! Every heart revolts against so 
wild a thought. And why then must we suffer the 
love of God to be banished out of the world because 
it has been sometimes improperly represented, or indis- 
creetly exercised ? It is not either from the visionarj 



SERMON t S 

mystic, the sensual fanatic, or the frantic zealot, but 
from the plain word of God, that we are to take our 
ideas of this divine sentiment. There we find it de. 
scribed in all its native purity and simplicity. The 
marks by which it is there distinguished contain no- 
thing enthusiastic or extravagant. The chief test by 
which the gospel orders us to try and measure our love 
to God is, tbe regard we pay to his commands. ** He 
^' that hath my commandments, and keepeth them," 
says our Lord, *' he it is that loveth me."* ^' This is 
** the love of God," says St. John, *' that we keep his 
*^ commandments."! And again, in still stronger 
terms : *' Whoso keepeth God's word, in him verily 
** is the love of God perfected.^'^X Had a proper atten- 
tion been paid to such passages as these, we should 
have heard nothins: of those absurd reveries which 
have so much disgraced this doctrine. Yet, while we 
thus guard against the errors of over- strained pietism, 
let us take care that we fall not into the opposite ex- 
treme of a cold and cautious indifference ; that, as 
others have raised their notions of this excellent qual- 
ity too high, we, on the other hand, sink them not 
too low. Because the Scriptures say, that to keep the 
commandments of God, is to love God, therefore too 
many are w^illing to conclude that no degree of inward 
aflection need accompany our outward obedience ; and 
that all appearance of devout ardor is a suspicious and 
even dangerous symptom. But this notion is to the 
full as groundless and unscriptural as those above- 
mentioned ; and needs no other confutation than the 
Tcry w^ords of the text. We are commanded not mere- 
ly to love God, but to love him i:jitb all our heart, and 
soul, and mind, and strength. Since then our obedi- 
ence must be, as we have seen, the measure of our 
lo^oe, we are plainly boimd by this command to obey 
him also with all our heart, and soul, and mind, and 
strength ; that is, with zeal, with alacrity, with vigor, 
with perseverance, with the united force of all our fa- 
culties and powers, with one universal bent of the 

* Jokn xiv. 21. f 1 John v. 3. | 1 John il, 5. 



4 SERMON I. 

whole man towards God. The love of ouf Maker, 
then, is neither a mere unmeaning animal fervor, nor 
a lifeless formal worship or obedience. It consists in 
devoutness of heart, as well as purity of life ; and from 
a comparison of the text with other passages of Scrips 
ture, we may define it to be, *^ such a reverential ad- 
miration of God's perfections in general, and such a 
grateful sense of his infinite goodness in particular, as 
render the contemplation and the worship of him de- 
lightful to us ; and produce in us a constant desire and 
endeavor to please him in every part of our moral and 
religious conduct." 

This it is that the Scriptures mean by the love of 
God ; and it is nothing more than what every man 
may, if he pleases, very easily acquire. It is not a 
new perception, of which we never experienced any 
thing before ; it is not an unintelligible, mysterious, or 
supernatural impression upon the soul : it is only a 
purer degree of that very same alFection, which -we 
frequently entertain for some of the most worthy of 
our own species. This sentiment religion finds already 
existing in our minds, and all that it does is to give it 
a new direction, and to turn it upon God, as its high- 
est and properest and most adequate object. If then 
we wish to know still more clearly in what the love of 
God consists ; and what share of it we ourselves pos- 
sess ; we must consult our own breasts, and consider a 
little how we feel ourselves affected towards the emi- 
nently great and good among our fellow creatures. 
Now, when we observe any one of this character going 
on steadily and uniformly in one regular even course 
of upright, noble, disinterested, benevolent conduct, 
making it the chief study and business of his life to 
promote the comfort and happiness of every humar^ 
being within his reach ; we can no more help esteem- 
ing and loving and reverencing so excellent a person, 
than we can forbear desiring food when we are huriT 
gry ; even though we ourselves are not in the least ben- 
efited by his goodness. But, should we be so fortu- 
nate as to live under his influence, and to be interested 



SERMON I. 5 

in his virtues ; to have him for our friend, our bene- 
factor ; our parent, guardian, governor, or protector ; 
then it is scarce possible for language to express the 
emotions of affection, gratitude, and delight, which we 
feel in contemplating his goodness, and even in the 
very mention of his name. In cases like this (and such 
cases do, God be thanked, sometimes exist) how does 
our heart bum imthin us^ how restless and impatient 
are w^e, till we find some better way than that of words 
to express the sense we have of our benefactor's kind- 
ness towards us ? With what solicitude do we study 
every turn of his countenance, and endeavor to prevent 
liis very wishes ? We not only do what he desires, but 
we do it with alacrity and ardor. We love to speak of 
Iiim, to think of him, to converse with him, to imitate 
]nm. Wc never mention him but in terms of rever- 
ence and respect. We are jealous of his reputation ; 
we cannot bear to hear it lightly treated. We enter 
Jieartily into his interests, and adopt his sentiments. 
We love ^\'hat he loves, we hate what he hates, we 
are ready for his sake to do any thing, to relinquish any 
thing, to suffer any thing. These are the sentiments 
we entertain, and this the conduct we observe towards 
those that we love on earth ; and in this manner does 
Christianit}^ expect us to love our Father that is in 
Iieaven. Jf this sincerity and ardor of affection are 
justly esteemed both natural and laudable in the one 
case, why are they not at least equally so in the other ? 
Why may they not without any stretch of our faculties, 
or any imputation of hypocrisy or enthusiasm, be ex- 
ercised towards Him, who is the very perfection of 
every thing that is great and good ; who is in reality, 
and in the strictest sense, our friend and benefactor, 
our parent, guardian, protector, and governor all in 
one ? It is true, indeed, there is one difference, and 
that, as some think, a very material one, between the 
two cases. Our earthly friends arc secju our heavenly 
ione is unseen. But who will pretend to say that we 
can have no love for th.ose whom Ave have ne\ er seen ? 
Do -we not oftei:i conceive the highest regard and ven- 



SERMON I. 

cr^tion for the worthies of past ages, whom we know 
only by the portraits that history draws of them ? And 
even with respect to persons of distinguished excel- 
Jenc< in our ow^n times : it is not always necessary 
that we should ^ee iji order to love them. It is enough 
that we feel that they are present with us, by that 
most pleasing and convincing of all proofs, the benefits 
they confer upon us. Now we know tiiat God is eve- 
ry where present ; that, '^ he is not far from every 
*• one of us;" that in him w^e most literally 'Mive, 
** and move, and have our being." Though we see 
not hi7n, yet his kindness and bounty to us w^e see and 
feel every moment of our lives : and the invisibility of 
the giver is amply compensated by the inestimable 
value of his gifts. By him we were first brought into 
being ; by his power that being is continually upheld ; 
by his mercy in Christ Jesus w^e are redeemed from 
sin and misery ; by his grace we are excited to every 
thing that is good ; by his providence w^e are hourly 
protected from a multitude of unseen dangers and ca- 
lamities ; to his bounty we owe the various comforts 
and delights that surround us here, and the provision 
that is made for our everlasting happiness hereafter. Is 
it possible now to receive such favors as these, without 
tsometimes thinking of them ; or to think of them with- 
out being filled with love and gratitude towards the 
gracious Author of them ? If they affect us at all, they 
!rnust affect us strongly and powerfully. For, although 
the love of God is not a sudden start of passion ; but 
a sober, rational, religious sentiment, acquired by re- 
flection, and improved by habit ; yet, as I before ob- 
served, it must not be so 'oery rational as to exclude 
/?// affection ; it may, and it ought to produce in us a 
steady and uniform, a sedate yet fervent sense of grat- 
itude towards God ; exerting itself in acts of adoration 
and praise, and substantialized in the practice of every 
Christian virtue. 

Have you then (ask your own hearts), have you ever 
given these practical, these only decisive proofs, that 
you really love God, as the text requires you to do^, 



SERMON I. 7 

tvith all your heart, and soul, and mind, and strengdi ? 
Have you made his precepts the first and principal ob- 
ject of your care, and pursued other things only in sub-' 
ordination to that great concern ? Have you not only 
admired and adored his perfections, but, as far as the 
infirmity of your nature, and the infinite distance be- 
tween God and man would allow, endeavored to imitate 
them ? Have you delighted to think and to speak of 
him, and never thought or spoke of him, but with the 
utmost veneration and awe ? When you have heard hi& 
holy name profaned, or seen any of his ordinances or 
laws insulted, have you always felt and expressed a 
proper abhorrence of such unworthy behavior ? Have 
you sacredly observed that holy day which is set apart 
for his service, and not only attended public worship 
yourselves, but taken care that all under your roof and 
under your protection should do the same ? Have you 
brought up your children *^ in the nurture andadmoni- 
'* tion of the Lord^^ ;" and amidst all the fine accom- 
plishments, amidst all the prudent maxims with which 
you have furnished them, have you taught them that 
** wisdom which is from above,'' and formed them to 
shine in another world as well as this ? Have you gladly- 
seized all opportunities of conversing with your Maker 
in private and in domestic prayer ; of pouring out your 
soul before him on all occasions, whether of sorrow or 
of joy, intreating pardon for your offences, and implor- 
ing his assistance for your future conduct ? Have you 
for his sake been content sometimes not only to forego 
many worldly comforts and advantages, but even, if 
necessary, to encounter ridicule, reproach, and injuri- 
ous treatment ? Have you cheerfully sacrificed to his 
Service, when called upon, your health and your re- 
pose, your amusements and pursuits, your favorite pas- 
sions and your fondest wishes, the pleasures of youth, 
the ambition of manhood, the avarice of old age ? Have 
you borne wdth patience and resignation all the disap- 
pointments, losses and afflictions, that have befallen 
you ? Have you considered them as the coiTections of 

* Ephesians vi. 4-, 



§ SERMON L 

his fatherly hand, and submitted without a murmur tcy 
all the dispensations of his providence ? Have you, in 
line, entirely subdued all anxious and fretful thoughts 
about your temporal aiFairs, and acquired that absolute 
composure and serenity of mind in every condition of 
life, w^hich nothing but religion can give, and nothing 
but guilt can take away ; committing yourselves and 
all your concerns to the great Disposer of every human 
event ; with a perfect confidence in his infinite wisdorn 
iind goodness, and a firm persuasion that every thing 
will work together ultimately for your good ? 

By questions such as these it is that you must try and 
examine yourselves whether you really love God or not. 
In all this there is nothing visionary or fanatical, nothing 
but what the coolest heads and th€ calmest spirits may 
easily rise to^ nothing but what reason approves and 
the gospel enjoins, nothing but what we ourselves 
should in a proportionable degree require from those 
who pretend to have a sincere regard and affection for 
us. What answers jyou can give to these questions 
your own consciences can best tell. But what a very 
great part of mankind can say to them, one may but 
too well imagine. Some there are, who, far from hav- 
ing any love for God, affect to doubt his very existence, 
and professedly make a jest of every thing that looks 
like religion. Others, immersed in the pursuits of 
pleasure, of interest, of ambition, have no time to waste 
upon their Maker, and hardly know whether they be- 
lieve a God or not. And even of those who profess both 
10 believe and to reverence him, how few are there that 
know any thing of that inward and hearty love for him 
which leads to universal holiness of life ? If they itiai'n- 
tain an external deceiicy of conduct, are just in their 
dealings, and generous to their friends, they think that 
all is well, and that they are in the high road to salvation^ 
All their notions of duty terminate in themsehes^ or 
th^ir fellow creatures, and they seem to have no appre- 
hensions of any peculiar homage or service being, due 
to their Creator, They can therefore, without any re- 
morse of conscience, make a wanton and irreverent use 



SERMON I. 9 

of his holy name, in oaths and execrations, which can 
answer no other purpose but that of insulting God, and 
giving pain to every serious mind. Not content with 
the ample provision of six days out of seven for their 
business and amusement, they must have the seventh 
too, or they are undone. They grudge their Maker 
even that slender pittance of time which he has reserved 
to himself; they prostitute the whole, or the greater 
part of it, to the most trifling or most unworthy purpo- 
ses ; and think it much fitter that he should be robbed 
of his worship than they of their pleasures and pursuits 
for a day, or even for an hour* Much less can they 
afford to spend a few minutes every day in pr hate medi- 
tation and prayer ; and as to family devotion, it would, 
they think, absolutely ruin their character, and expose 
them to everlasting contempt* Or if by chance they 
do go so far as to worship God both in public and at 
home, yet with what visible languor, and coldness, and 
indifference, do they often labor through this heavy 
task ; and how apt are they to deride and stigmatize 
with opprobrious names those who show any unusual 
marks of seriousness and devotion ? They think it a 
dreadful crime to be righteous over-much, but none at 
all to be righteous over-little. They are terribly afraid 
of being called bigots and enthusiasts ; but think there 
is no danger of falling into the opposite extreme, of 
lukewarmness and want of piety. They profess per- 
haps sometimes^ and perhaps too persuade themselves, 
that they really love God; but they give no demonstra- 
tive proof that their persuasion is well-grounded, and 
their professions sincere. If they have the y^r;?/ cf 
godliness, they too commonly want the power of it. 
'riieir piety is in general exterior and local, confined 
to the ordinary offices of devotion, and the walls of a 
church; not considering diat God is equally present 
every where ; that the whole world is his temple, and 
the sanctity of our whole lives liis worship. But their 
lives are consecrated to far other purposes. Their af- 
fections arc not set on things above, their views do not 
tend there, their hopes are not centered there, " their 

B 



10 SERMDN r. 

'* treasure is on earth, and tliere is their heart also.'^ 
The main end, the great and ultimate aim, of all their 
actions and designs, is not to please God, but to please 
themsehes; to advance their power, to enlarge their 
fortunes, to multiply their amusements. Their love of 
God is only secondary, and subservient to these pri- 
mary considerations ; just as much as is commodious 
and easy, and consistent with all their favorite pursuits. 
Satisfied with " esche wmg evil," they do not go on 
" to do the thing that is good;" they do not press for- 
wards towards those sublime and exalted virtues, that 
preference of God to every worldly consideration, that 
entire resignation to the divine will, that perfect trust 
and reliance upon Heaven, which are the surest proof, 
and the fairest fruit, of true genuine piety. In prospe- 
rity, their heai'ts are lifted up, and they forget God ; 
in adversity, they are cast down, and dare not look up 
to him. Or if, when misfortunes press hard upon them, 
they are at length brought down upon their knees before 
him ; yet this is commonly an act of fear rather than of 
love, of necessity rather than of choice; after experi- 
encing what every human being will experience in his 
turn, the instability of worldly happiness, and the 
weakness of every earthly support. 

What then can be said for those who fall under this 
description, and what excuse can they make for the 
neglect of so important a duty? For, whatever they 
may think of it, however lightly in the gaiety of their 
hearts they may treat the love of their Maker, yet it is 
confessedly the first and great command, and 
stands at the head of every Christian virtue. If you- 
ask, n.vhyi\. is thus distinguished, the answer is obvious. 
It is plainly reasonable and right ; it is conformable to- 
all our ideas of order and propriety, that the Supreme 
Lord of All, the first and greatest and best of Beings, 
should have xhtjirst place in our regards, and that those 
duties which respect him as their immediate object^ 
should have the precedency and command over every 
other. But besides this natural fitness, there is another 
very important reason why the love of God is called ia 



SERMON I. 11 

the Gospel the first and great command. And 
that is, because among all the incentives to virtue, it is 
the only one whose operation is sufficiently eftectual and 
extensive, the only one that can reach to every instance 
of duty, and produce an uniform, consistent character 
of goodness. It is the grand, leading principle of^ right 
conduct, the original source and fountain from which all 
Christian graces flow; from whence the ^'living wa- 
ters" of religion take their rise, and branch out into all 
the various duties of human life. Other motives may 
frequently lead us to what is right. Instinct, constitu- 
tion, prudence, convenience, a strong sense of honor 
and of moral rectitude, will in rnojiy cases prompt us to 
worthy actions ; but in all cases they will not, especial- 
ly in those of great danger, and difficulty, and self-deni- 
al ; whereas the love of God, if it be hearty and sincere, 
will equally regulate the ivhole of our conduct ; will, 
on the most delicate and trying occasions, engage us 
to renounce our dearest interests and strongest inclina- 
tions, when conscience and duty require it at our hands. 
A man without any reHgion at air may do good occar 
sionally, may act laudably hy chance ; his virtue may 
break out sometimes in sudden temporary gleams ; 
but whoever wishes to be habitually and uniformly 
good, must have the vital principle of piety working at 
his heart, and by a constant, regular warmth producing 
constant and regular fruits of righteousness. 

Let not then either the sober moralist, or the gay 
man of the world, any longer treat this most holy affec- 
tion with derision and contempt, as a mere ideal, unin- 
telligible notion, fit only for the cloystered monk, or the 
superstitious devotee. It is, on the contrary, one of 
the most useful, one of the most practical sentiments 
belonging to our nature, adapted no less to active than 
to contemplative life, and entirely calculated to promote 
all the great purposes of social happiness and universal 
good. This is not a time, God knows, for \veakening 
any of those ties, which bind m*en down to their duty, 
much less for dissolving that strongest of all bonds, af- 
iectionate allegiance to the great Soverign of the uni^ 



12 SERMON L 

verse ; which, as the Scripture expresses it, constrains 
us to every thing that is right and good, from this pow- 
erful, this irresistible motive ; because the author of 
our being, the author of every blessing we enjoy, de- 
mands it from us, a proof of our gratitude, as the best, 
the only return we can make to his unbounded good- 
ness. Without this, every system of ethics, however 
specious or plausible it may seem in theory, will be 
found on trial imperfect and ineffectual. And it is one 
of the many invaluable benefits we owe to the Gospel ; 
that by the addition of this go^oerning principle^ this 
master affectioti, to all the other grounds of moral ob- 
ligation, it has given virtue every assistance that heaven 
and earth can furnish ; it has given us the completest 
and most efficacious rule of conduct that was evef 
offered to m,ankind. 



SERMON II, 



John iii. 19. 

This is the condemnation .^ that light is come into the ivorld^ and men 
loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds ivere 

evil. 

HEN the several parts of the text are reduced 
to their proper order ; they give us the four 
following distinct propositions. 

That light is come into the world. 

That men have preferred darkness to this light. 

That the reason is because their deeds are evil. 

And that the consequence of this choice will be con- 
demnation. 

It may be worth our while to bestow a little consid- 
eration on each of these particulars. 

In this enlightened age, it will be thought no para- 
dox to assert that *' light is come into the world." 
The position is true in more senses than one ; but there 
is only one that can suit this passage. The light here 
meant can be no other than that divine one of revela- 
tion, which " brought life and immortality*" along 
with it. The Christian dispensation is constantly and 
uniformly described in holy writ under this figure, 
from the time that the first faint glimmerings of it ap- 
peared at a distance, till it shone forth in its full lustre 
and glory under the Gospel. Indeed there seems to 

» 2 Tim. i. 10. 



14 SERMON II. 

be scarce aily other image that could so fitly and ad- 
equately represent it to us. It is of the same use to 
the spiritual, that the light of the sun is to the natural 
world. It gives life, health, and vigor, to God's new 
creation ; it makes the *' day of salvation-*" to dawn 
upon us ; it opens to us the prospect of another and a 
better life ; " it is a hght to our feet and a lantern to our 
*' pathsf," and guides us in the way to happiness and 
glory. 

The next assertion contained in the text, that '^ men 
^' have preferred darkness to this hght," may seem to 
require a proof. To " love darkness rather than 
light" is so opposite to our nature, so inconsistent 
with our general manner of proceeding, that it seems 
at first incredible,. If it really is the case., so perverse 
a choice was never made but in religion. Every oth- 
er kind of light men catch at with the utmost eagerness. 
The light of the heavens has been ever esteemed one 
of the greatest blessings that Providence has bestowed 
upon us, without which, even life itself would be 
hardly thought worth possessing. The love of knowL 
edge, that light of the mind, appears in us as early, and 
operates in us as strongly, as any one principle in our 
nature ; and, in every instance, the human under, tand- 
ing naturally lays hold on every opportunity of infor- 
mation, and opens itself on every side to let in all the 
light it is capable of receiving. 

How then comes }t to pass that with a mind thuQ 
constituted, thus thirsting after light, men can some- 
times bring themselves to do such violence to their 
nature, as to chiise darkness, in that very point where it 
is of the utmost importance to have all the light they 
can possibly get ; where every step must lead to hap- 
piness or misery, and every error draw after it the rnost 
fatal and lasting consequences ? Yet our Saviour tells 
lis, that this was actually the case in his days, and would 
God that daily experience did not show the possibility 
of it, in our own ! But when we see the various artifi- 
ces with which revelation is every day assailed ; when 

* 2 Cor. vl 2. t Psal. cxix. lOJ. 



SERMON II. M 

tvesee one man ^" most ingeniously reasoning us out 
of every ground of certainty, and every criterion of 
truth ; involving self-evident axioms in obscurity and 
confusion ; and entangling our understandings in the 
gloomy intricacies of scholastic subtilty and metaphys- 
ical abstraction ; when we see anotherf exhausting all 
the powers of a most fertile genius in ridiculing the 
dispensations of the God that gave it ; making the 
most a^vful subjects of religion the constant sport of 
his licentious wit ; and continuing to sit with unabated 
levity in *^ the seat of the scorner," till he drops from 
it into the grave ; when we see a third J, with the 
strongest professions of sincerity, and good faith, pro-^ 
posing most humbly what he calls his doubts and scru- 
ples^ and thereby creating them in the minds of others ; 
extolling one part of Christianity in order to subvert 
the rest ; retaining its moral precepts ; but rejecting 
ks miracles and all its characteristic doctrines ; giving 
an air of speciousness to the wildest singularities by 
the most exquisite graces of composition, and insidi- 
ously undermining the foundations of the Gospel, 
while he pretends to defend it : when, I say, our adver- 
saries assume such ditferent shapes, and set so many 
engines at work against us ; what else can this mean 
but to take from us all the sources of religious informa- 
tion, and bring us back again to the darkness and igno- 
rance of our Pagan ancestors ? It is to no purpose ta 
tell us here of the light of nature. It is an affront to 
our senses, to offer us that dim taper, in the room of 
the *' sun of righteousness*l!." Whatever may be 
said (and a great deal has been said) of the modern im- 
provements of science, the discoveries of philosophy, 
and the sagacity of human reason, it is to revelation 
only wc are indebted for the superior light we now 

* Hxjme ; whose uncomfortable and unintelligible system of Pj-rrhonism 
has been exposed wiili great spirit and eloquence in Dr. Beattie's Essay 
en the natin-e and im/yniitabiHty of Truth : in wliich -'(as well as in all the 
other productions of the saine excellent writer) the reader will find that union 
so rarely- to be met with, of a clear head, a fine imagination, a con-ect taste> 
and a heart thoroughly warm.ed with the love of truth and virtue. 

t Voltaire. + Rousseau. ^'Mui.Lv. 2^ 



16 SERMON 11. 

boast of in religion*. If nature coiiid ever have point- 
ed out to us right principles of belief, and rules of con- 
duct, she might have done it long ago ; she had four 
thousand years to do it in before the coming of Christ^ 
But what little progress was made in this vast space 
of time ; what egregious mistakes were committed, 
not only in the speculative doctrines of religion, but 
in some of the most essential points of practical mo- 
rality, I need not remind you; How comes it then to 
pass, that this blind guide is at last become so quick- 
sighted ? How comes her eye on a sudden so strong 
and clear, as to see into the perfections and will of 
God, to penetrate into the dark regions of futurity, to 
take in at one view the whole compass of our duty, 
and the whole extent of our existence ? It is plain 
some friendly hand must have removed the film from 
her eyes ; and what other hand could this be than that 
gracious and beneficent one^ which gave eyes to the 
blind, and feet to the lame ; which helped the impo- 
tence, and healed the infirmity, of nature in every in- 
stance, in none more than in this ? It is in short 
from the sacred sources of the Gospel^ that reason 
drew that light she now enjoys. Let then men walk, 
if they w/7/ be so perverse, '' by this lesser 
" LiGHTf," v/hich was only intended ^' to rule the 
" night J" of heathenism ; but let them be so honest 
as to confess that it is only a borro%ved, a reflectedW^ht ; 
that it owes much the greatest part of its present lus- 
tre to THAT GREATER, THAT BETTER LIGHT of the 

Gospel, whose province it is " to govern the day^," 
and to lighten every *' man that cometh into the 
** world^'*." 

Let us however suppose for a moment (what can 
never be proved) that mankind are now much better 
able to investigate truth, and to find out their duty by 
themselves, than they were in former ages ; and that 
reason can give us (the utmost it ever did or can pre- 

* Tvf r. Rousseau himseif confesses, that all the frne morality displayed in 
sorae of our modern publications, is derived not from philosophy, but from 
the Ccsnel. Vol. ix. p. 71. 

*• t Gcrn. lU \lb, % lb.. ** Joh. i. 9. 



SERMON IL 17 

tend to give) a perfect system of moralit}'. But what 
will this avail us, unless it could be shown that inan is 
also perfect and uncorrupt ? A religion that contained 
nothing more than a perfect system of morality might 
perhaps suit an angel : but ii is only one part, it is 
only a subordinate part, of the religion of a man and a 
sinner. It uould be but very poor consolation to a 
criminal going to execution, to put into his hands a 
complete collection of the laws of his country, when the 
poor WTCtch perhaps expected a reprieve. It could 
serve no other purpose than to embitter his agonies, 
and make him see more clearly the justice of his con- 
demnation. If you chose to do the unhappy man 
a real service, and to give him any substantial comfort, 
you must assure him that the oHence for which he was. 
going to die was forgiven him ; that his sentence was 
reversed • that he would not only be restored to his 
prince's favor, but put into away of preserving it for 
tiie future ; and that if his conduct afterwards v/as hon - 
est and upright, he should be deemed capable of enjoy- 
ing the highest honors in his master's kingdom. But 
no one could tell him this, or at least he would credit 
no one that did ; except he v\'as commissioned and 
authorised by the prince himself, to tell him so. He 
might study the laws in his hands till the very moment 
of his execution, without ever fuidlng out from them 
that he should obtain a pardon. 

Such, the Scriptures inform us, ^vvastbe state of man 
l^efore Christ came into the world. He had flillen 
from his original innocence. He ^ras a rebel against 
God, and obnoxious to his wrath. The Sfntence of 
death had passed upon him, and he had no plea to oiler 
to arrest the execution of it. Reason, you sav, gives 
him a perfect rule to v.alk by. But lie has alr-eady 
transgressed this rule ; and if even this transgres- 
sion were cancelled, yet if left to himself, he may trans- 
gress it again the next moment. He is uneasy under 
his sentence, he wa'-its forgiveness for the past, assist- 
ance for the future ; and till you can give him this, it 
is an insult upon his misery to talk to him of a per- 

C 



IS SEltMON II. 

feet rule of action. If this be all that reason can give 
him (and it is really much more than it can give him)^ 
he must necessarily have recourse to Revelation. God 
only knows, and God only can tell, v^hether he wi// 
forgive, and upon what terms he will forgive the oiFenccs 
done against him ; what mode of worship he requires ^ 
what helps he will afford us y and what condition he 
will place us in hereafter. All this God actually bas 
told us in the Gospel. It was to tell usthl., He sent 
his Son into the worlds whose mission was confirmed 
by the highest atithofity, by signs from Heaven, and 
miracles on earth ; whose life and doctrine are deliv- 
ered down to us by the most unexceptionable wit- 
nesses, who sealed theii? testimony with their blood ; 
who were too curious arid incredulous to be themselves 
imposed upon,^ too honest and sincere, too plain and- 
artless, to impose upon others. 

What then can be the reason that men still refuse ta- 
see, and persist in '* loving darkness rather than light?'* 
They will tell you, perhaps, that it is because the Gos- 
pel is full of incredible mysteries ; but our Saviour tells 
you, and he tells you much truer, that it is '' because 
*' their deeds are evil." The mysteries and difficulties 
of the Gospel can be no real objection to any man that 
considers what mysteries occur, and what insuperable 
objections may be started, rn almost every branch of 
human knowledge ;; and how often we are obliged, in 
our most important temporal concerns, to decide and 
to act upon evidence, incumbered with far greater diffi- 
culties than any that are to be found in Scripture. If 
we can admit no religion that is not free from mystery, 
we must, I doubt, be content without any religion at 
all. Even the religion of nature itself, the whole 
constitution both of the natural and the moral world, is 
full of mystery* ; and the greatest mystery of all would 
be, if, w^ith so many irresistible marks of truth, Chris- 
tianity should at last prove false. It is not then be- 
cause the Gospel has too little light for these men that 

* Vide Voltaire^ ^iestio77s sur P Encyclopedia ^ V. i. p. 190. Rousseau, T. 7. 
p. 176. k r. Q. p. ir, 26, 32, 49— 12^ 1762, Franrfort. 



SERMON II. 19 

lliey reject it, but because it has too much, ^' For cvvery 
*' one that doth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to 
** the light, lest his deeds should be reproved*." The 
light of the Gospel is too prying and inquisitive for 
such an one. It reveals certain things which he could 
wish to conceal from all the world, and if possible from 
himself. Nor is this all ; it not only reveals, but it 
reproves them. It strikes him with an evidence he 
cannot bear -, an evidence not only of its own truth, 
but of his unworthy condiict. The Gospel does in- 
deed offend him ; but it is not his understanding, it is 
his conscience, that is shocked ; he could easily credit 
what it requires him to believe ; but he cannot, or 
rather he will not, practice what it commands him 
to do.. 

It is plain that such a man cannot possibly admit a 
Revelation thatcondemns him ; and it is as plain that the 
man of virtue cannot spurn the hand that is graciously 
stretched out to reward him. If he is a tnily virtuous 
man, that is, one who sincerely labors to know his 
<luty, and sincerely intends to perform it, he cannot but 
wish for more light to guide him in the investigation, 
more assistance to support him in the discharge of it, 
more happiness to cro\vn his perseverance in it, than 
bare reason alone can ailbrd him. This is what ail the 
best and wisest Heathens most ardently desired, what 
nature has been continually looking out for with the 
utmost earnestness of exi:>ectation. When with a mind 
thus disposed he sits down to examine die Gospel, 
suggest to me the least shadow of a reason why he 
should reject it. He finds in it a religion, pure, holy, 
and benevolent, as the God that gave it. He finds not 
only its moral precepts, but even its sublimest myste- 
ries, calculated to promote internal sanctity, vital piety, 
unbounded philanthropy. He finds it throughout so 
great and noble, so congenial to the finest feelings, and 
most generous sentiments of his soul ; that he cannot 
but %msh it may be true ; and never yet, 1 believe, did 
any good man wish it to be true, but he actually found 

* John iii. 20. 



20 SERMON 11. 

it so. He sees in it every expectation of nature 
answered, evefy infirmity supported, every want sup- 
plied, every terror dissipated, every hope confirmed ; 
nay, he sees that God has done exceeding abundantly 
above ail that he could either ask or think ; that he 
has given him (what reason could hardly have the idea 
of) eternal happiness in a life to come. Will this man 
*' love darkness rather than that light ?" Will he 
choose to pursue virtue, with much pains, litde suc- 
cess, and no other voages than death ; or to be led to 
her through a safe and easy path by an infallible guide, 
who does not desire him to '' serve God for nought ?" 
Let me not however be understood to assert, or to 
represent the text as asserting, that all unbelievers are 
without exception absolutely wicked men. There 
are some, no doubt, who lead, what is called, good 
moral lives. Yet, if you examine even these very 
strictly, you will, I believe, seldom find that their vir- 
tue is so pure, so uniform, so extensive, so complete 
in all the several branches of duty, as that of a truly de- 
vout Christian. And it should be observed also, that 
men may reject the Gospel, not only because they are 
dissolute in their conduct, but for various other rea- 
sons : because, perhaps, they are too busy, or too idle, 
to examine carefully into the truth : because like Gal- 
lio, *' they care for none of these things,'^ and like him 
" drive them away" with contempt 'MVom the judg- 
*' ment-seat^" of their own mind ; because they give 
themselves up to a warm lively imagination ; and are 
impatient to show that they have more depth of thought, 
more freedom of spirit, and elevation of mind, than 
the rest of the world ; because, in fine, they are ambi- 
tious to figure at the head of a sect, to enjoy the de- 
lightful triumph of beating down long- established opin- 
ions, and erecting upon their ruins a little fiu'orite 
system of their own. Now all these causes of infideli- 
ty, though less culpable than downright profligacy, 
are yet evidently great faults, and indicate more or less 
a depraved turn of mind ; and from immoralities of 

* Aci:s xviii. 16,- 



SERMON II. 21 

this kind at least scarce any sceptics are entirely free. 
Or, admit that some are ; yet these instances are con- 
fessedly very rsire ; and u prudent man would no more 
chuse to embark his morality on so precarious a bottom, 
than he would venture to walk in the dark amidst rocks 
and precipices, because some perhaps have done it 
without receiving any harm. \n general, therefore, the 
ground of unbelief laid down by our Saviour in the 
text is undoubtedly a true one ; and if a man shuns the 
light, it is an almost certain sign that his deeds are, in 
some sense or other, in a greater or a lesser degree, 
evil, and consequently his condemnation just. 

Yet how can this be ? you will perhaps soy. Can 
God punish his creatures for walking by that light 
which he himself has set up in their own minds, 
though he has at the same time perhaps revealed a ful- 
ler light fi'om Heaven-* ? Most certainly he can ; for 
the very same reason that a prince might punish his 
subjects for acting by the law of nature, instead of gov- 
erning themselves by the civil laws of the land. It is not 
a matter of indifference, whether you embrace Chris- 
tianity or not. Though reason could answer all the 
purposes of Revelation (which is far, very far from 
being the case) yet you are not at liberty to make it 
your sole o'uide if there be such a thing as a true Reve- 
lation. We are the subjects of the Almighty : and 
\\hether we will acknowledge it or not, wt live, and 
cannot ^//^ live, under his government. His will is the 
law of his kingdom. If he has made no express dec- 
laration of his will, we must collect it as well as we 
can from V, hat we know of his nature, and our own. 
But if he has expressly declared his will, that is the 
law we are to be o-overned b}'. We may indeed re- 
iuseto be governed i)y it ; but it is at our peril if we 
do ; for if it proves to be a true declaration of his will, 
to reject it is rebdUon. 

But to rejet or receive it, you may allcdge, is not a 
thing in your own power. Belief depends not on your 

* De quoi puis-je etre coupable en serv:>nt Dieu selcn les Lumieres qu'il 
donne a inon esprit. Sc si;lcn ks Leiuiniens qu'il insr^ire ji moaCeur ? l^oiSi,ean, 
r.B p. 67. 



22 SERMON II. 

will, but your understanding. And will die rigliteous 
Judge of the earth condemn you for want of under- 
standing^ ? No ; but he may and will condemn you 
for the wrong conduct of your understanding. It is 
not indeed in }^ur power to believe whatever you 
please, whether credible or incredible ; but it is in 
your pow^r to consider thoroughly, whether a sup- 
posed incredibility be real or onl}'- apparent. It is in 
your power to bestow a greater or less degree of atten- 
tion on the evidence before you^ It is in your power 
tQ examine it with an earnest desire to find out the 
truth, and a firm resolution to embrace it wherever you 
do find it ; or, on the contrary, to bring with you a 
heart full of incorrigible depravity, or invincible pre- 
possessions. Have you then truly and honestly done 
every thing that is confessedly in 3'our power, towards 
forming a right judgment of Revelation ? Have you 
ever laid before yourself in one view the whole collec- 
tive evidence of Christianity ; the consistence, har- 
mony, and connection of all its various parts ; the 
long chain of prophecies undeniably completed in it; 
the astonishing and well attested miracles that attended 
it ; the perfect sanctity of its author ; the purity of its 
precepts ; the sublimity of its doctrines; the amazing 
rapidity of its progress ; the illustrious company of 
confessors, saints, and martyrs, who died to confirm its 
truth ; together with an infinite number of collateral 
proofs and subordinate circumstances, ajl concurring 
to form such a body of evidence, as no other truth in 
the world can shew ; such as must iiecessa:rily bear 
down, by its own weight and magnitude, all trivial ob- 
jections to particular partsf r Surely these things are 
not trifles i surely they at least demand seriousness and 
attention. Have you then done the Gospel this com- 
mon piece of justice ? Have you ever sat down to con- 
sider it with impartiality and candor ; without any fa- 
vorite vice or early prejudice, without any fondness 

^ * Est on maitre de croire, on dene pas croire ? Est ce un crime de n'avoir 
pas su bien argumenter ? Rousseau, tcin. 6. p. 305. 

f See Dr. Paley's View of the Evidences of Christianity, and a short and 
stegant Summary of them by Dr. Beaxt.ie. 



SERMON ir. 2i 

for applause, or novelty, or refinement, to mislead you ? 
Have }'ou examined it with the same care and diligence, 
that you would examine a title to an estate ? Have yotl 
enquired for proper books ? Have yau read the de- 
fences of Revelation as well as the attacks upon it? 
Have you in difficult points applied for the opinion of 
wise and learned friends ; just as you w^ould consult 
the ablest lawyers when your property was concerned, 
or the most skilful physicians when your life was at 
stake ? If you can truly say^ that you have done all 
these things ; if you have faithfully bestowed on these 
enquiries, all the leisure and abilities you arc master of, 
2ind called in every help within your reach, there is 
little danger of any material doubts remaining upon 
your mind. But if after all there should, be not afraid y 
trust in God and be at peace ; "^ if your own heart 
** condemn you not, then may you have confidence to- 
'* wards God*. "^ You are in the hands of a gracious 
Master, who will not require more of you than you 
are able to perform. To the modest, the humble, the 
diligent, the virtuous enquirer ; who labors after con- 
viction, but cannot thoroughly arrive at it ^ who nev- 
er attempts or wishes to infiise his scruples into others ; 
who earnestly strives, who fervently prays for more 
light and strength ; crying out with all the passionate 
sincerity of an honest heart, "^ Lord, I believe, help 
** thou mine unbelieff ;" to him every equitable allow- 
ance \Aill undoubtedly be made, every instance of 
compassionate tenderness be shown. '' For like as a 
'* father pitieth his own children, even so is the Lord 
''^ merciful to them that fear him J." But to them who 
neither y^^r nor regard him : to the bold unbelieving 
libertine, who is against the Gospel, because the Gos- 
pel is against him ; to the man of pride and paradox, 
who burns to distinguish himself from the vulgar by 
the novelty of his opinions, and would disdain to follow 
the common herd of mankind, even though he kneMr * 
they were leading him to Heaven ; to the subtle minute 
philosopher, who refines away every dictate of common 

* 1 John iii. 21. f Mark ix. 24. J Ps. ciii. li 



24 SERMON IL 

sense, and is lost in the dark profound of his own wretch^ 
ed sophistry ; to the buitoon, who laughs and takes pains 
to make all the world laugh at every thing serious 
and sacred ; to the indolent, negligent, superficial free- 
thinker, who reads a little, takes for granted a great 
deal, and understands nothing thoroughly ; to the man 
of pleasure and amusement, who treats all these things 
with a giddy, wanton, contemptuous levity ; and thinks 
that the whole f.ibric of Revelation may be overturned, 
by a silly cavil or a profane jest, thrown out in the gay 
moments of convivial mirth ; to these I say, and all like 
these, the Almighty will one day most assuredly show, 
that his G:racious offers of salvation are not to be des- 
pised, and trampled Upon, and ridiculed with impunity. 
Consider then, you, who reject the Gospel (if any 
such be here) consider, I intreat you, o?i ivbat grounds 
you reject it ; and think a little seriously on these 
things once more in your lives, before you resolve nev- 
er to think again. Look well into your own hearts- 
and see whether you are really, what perhaps you pro- 
fess to be, unbelievers on conviction, or whether you 
have taken up your infidelity, as some do their faith, 
upon trust. It becomes not us to judge you unchar- 
itably ; but indeed it becomes you to examine your- 
selves very strictly. You may easily deceive the \^ orld; 
you may, if you please, deceive yourselves ; but God 
you cannot deceive. He, to whom all hearts are open 
as the clay, he knows whether you are conscientious 
and honest doubters, or careless, prejudiced, profane 
despisers of his word. *' It is a small thing for you 
*' to be judged of man's judgment; he that judgeth 
*' you is the Lord* ;" and by the unerring rules of his 
justice you must finally stand or fall. Think then 
^vhether you can face that justice v.ithout dismay ; 
\vhether you can boldly plead before the tribunal of 
Christ the sincerity of your unbelief as a bar to your 
condemnation. That plea may possibly in some cases 
be a good one. God grant it may in yours ! But re- 
member this one thing ; that you stake your own souls 
upon the truth of it. 

* 1 Cor. iv. 3, i. 



mL 



SERMON III. 



James i. 13. 

Let no man say^ ivhen hs is tew/ited^ I am tcmfited of God ; for Coi^ 
camiot be tcwfitcd with evil^ neither tav^itethhs any wan. 

NOTWITHSTANDING this general prohibition, 
there is one sense in which it is very allowable 
to say (for the sacred writers themselves have said it) 
that men are sometimes tempted of God. And that irs 
when by tempting any one is meant only trying him, 
putting his sincerity, his obedience, his fiiith, or any 
of his other virtues to the test, la this sense God 
tempted Abvdh^xti-x^ when he commanded him to olier 
up his son^. In this sense he may be said to have 
tempted the Israelites in the wilderness, on purpose (as 
Moses expressly tells us) to prcFje them; " to know 
*' what was in their hearts, Vihether they would keep 
** his commandments ornof."' And in the same man- 
ner he every day suffers good men to fldl into what is 
very properly called trying circumstances, for the exer- 
cise and improvement of their virtue. To tempt men 
inthis way, is evidently no impeachment, cidier of God's 
holiness, mercy, or justice. For he does it with the 
best and most gracious intentions, in order to call oui 
into action the latent great qualities of an honest and a 
good heart, to hold them up to the observation and ap- 
plause of mankind, and to reward tlicm in proportioii 

♦ Gen. y.\\\. 1. t D«t. vin. ^. 

D 



26 SERMON III. 

to the severity with which he tried them. At sucti 
temptatiDiis we ought to be so far from repining, that,> 
as St. ^James very rightly advises, we should '^ count 
** it all joy when we fail into them^," should look up- 
on them as excellent opportunities kindly thrown into 
our hands by Heaven itself, of demonstrating our af- 
fection, our fidelity, our allegiance to the great Sove- 
reign of the universe. 

It is not therefore in this sense, though a very scrip- 
tural one, that the text is to be understood, but in that 
more plain and obvious meaning, which is now almost 
universally affixed to the word temptation. We are 
forbid to say that God tempts us, as wicked men do, 
to commit sin ; with a desire to draw us into it, and 
with such powerful solicitations as it is impossible to 
resist. This is an assertion so daring and profane, that 
one Vv^ould think the authority of an apostle was not 
wanting to w^arn men against it. Yet from the expres- 
sion he makes use of, " Let no man say," it should 
seem, as if some men, in those times of distress and 
persecution, had said it. And even in our own times, 
though few, if any, are hardy enough to say it in ex- 
press terms, yet indirectly, and by necessary implica- 
tion, it is said and insisted upon with vehemence 
almost every day. For do we not every day hear men 
pleading constitution in excuse for their wickedness, 
and throwing all the ^blame of their vices on the 
strength of passion, or the violence of temptation : 
And what is this but to say, in other words, that they 
are tempted of God F What is it but to say, that he 
who is the author of their constitution has given them 
appetites which they are not able to govern, and placed 
them in the midst of temptations which it is impossible 
to resist or escape ? That the powers with which he 
has furnished them are not equal to the duties he re- 
quires, and that therefore he alone is answerable for 
the crimes into which they fall ? 

It should be charitably presumed, that out of the 
great numbers v/ho openly avow this plea of constitu- 

* James i. 2. 



SERMON III. 27 

tion, and the still greater numbers who secretly adopt 
and act upon it, there are but few, in proportion, who 
see the flagrant impiety of it ; who are sensible that 
they say in effect, what the apostle tells us no man 
ought to say, that they ai^ tempted of God. But 
whether they perceive this consequence, or whether 
they perceive it not, it is highly requisite to show the 
falsehood of a notion, which strikes at the very root of 
all morality and religion, and is the favorite argument 
in the mouth of every libertine who thinks it worth 
while to reason at all upon the subject. 

It must be confessed, indeed, that this life is (what 
it would be strange if a state of probation was not) a 
very painful, and ahnost constant struggle between ap- 
petite and duty. But it will be found, I trust upon a 
fliir enquiry, that we are not so uiiequal to the conflict 
as some men ^vouid willingly persuade us to believe. 
They have themselves been vanquished, and would 
Iiave it thought impossible to conquer. They would 
have us judge of the difficulty of the enterprize from 
the weak efforts they made to surmount it, and wilfully 
magnify the force of the enemy, in order to extenuate 
the guilt and the disgrace of their defeat. 

I mean not here to say, that this conquest is to be 
obtained always by mere human strength alone. This 
■\\ere to betray the very cause of Christianity for the 
sake of defending one of its duties. Mere human 
strength alone can, indeed, on some occasions, Yi^hen 
properly exerted, do great things ; much greater than 
most men are willing to imagine. This is evident 
from thos^ w^ell-known instances of heroic virtue in 
the heathen world, delivered down to us in history, 
which incontestibly prove, that the native dignity of 
virtue, and the simple eflforts of unenlightened and 
unassisted reason, are somewnes able to stand the 
s'oock of temptation, in the most delicate and trying 
circumstances. But these instances are very rare ; to 
be found only among some few men of elevated souls 
and improved understandings ; and are never mention- 
ed but as the moral prodigies and wonders of antiquity. 



28 SERMON . III. 

Had man been able of himself " to overcome the 
.*' world, and to work out his own salvation," there had 
been no need of any new religion ; God's grace had 
been siiperfiiious, and Christ had died in vain. But 
the gross depravity of mankind, before the publi- 
cation of the Gospel, too plainly showed the weakness 
of human nature, when left to itself, and evinced the 
absolute necessity of some extraordinary support. To 
give us this support, and to guide our steps aright 
iimidst the snares and dangers that every where sur- 
round us, our Redeemer came from heaven ; and it is 
the peculiar glory and privilege of Christianity, that it 
is the only religion which ever did or could propose 
sufficient motives, and afford sufficient helps, to fortify 
its disciples against the allurements of sin, and to keep 
them unspotted from the world. 

With the Deist, then, or the Atheist, with him that 
professes only natural religion, or him that professes 
none at all, we pretend not to contest the point ; we 
readily allow temptation to be, 07i their principles, some- 
times irresistible, and must leave them to the hard do- 
minion of unbridled passions, and the tumults of a dis- 
tempered soul. 

But to him who believes that there is a God, and 
that he is possessed of all those attributes, which both 
reason and Revelation ascribe to him, there cannot be 
the least shadow of a doubt in this point, if he does not 
suffer his passions to throw a cloud over his understand- 
ing. For, can he seriously believe that a God of infi- 
nite wisdom has given us a rule for the direction of our 
lives, and yet rendered it in many cases absolutely im- 
possible for us to conform to that rule ? Can he per- 
suade himself that a God of infinite mercy and good^ 
ness, though he hioxvs the strength of his creatures, 
yet exacts what is beyond it, and, with all the cruelty pf 
an Egyptian task -master, demands "virtue, without hav- 
ing given us the capacity of being virtuous ? Can he 
suppose that a Being of infinite justice, first compels us 
to sin, by the strength of our appetites, and then pun- 
i?,hes the wretched sinner -, that he is at once the au- 



SERMON in. 29 

thor and avenger of iniqiiit}' ? Can he imagine, ^ that 
.he who is holiness itself, who, as the text expresses it, 
cannot be tempted of evil, who is of purer eyes than 
even to behold it without indignation, is yet capable of 
tempting others to what he himself forbids and abhors ? 
Can he, in fine, bring himself to think, that the pre 
cepts, the exhortations, the promises, the threatenings of 
the Gospel, are all a mockery and insult upon us, 
setting before us life and death, good and evil, and ap- 
plying to us as free agents and accountable beings, 
when at the same time constitution or temptation takes 
from us all liberty of will, and necessarily determines us 
to a course of vice ? This were to convert the gracious 
Father of mankind into a frantic and capricious ty- 
rant over his WTCtched creatures, to strip him of his 
best perfections, to make vain the noblest faculties of 
man, and overturn the whole fabric of natural as well 
as revealed religion ; which is surely purchasing a lit- 
tle self-defence at much too high a price, and doubling 
instead of extenuating our guilt, 

Had God made no express declarations on this point, 
Vi hat has been already said would be abundantly suffi- 
cient to decide it. But he who well knew how apt 
men are to deceive themselves in enquiries of this 
nature, and how little sometimes the most conclusive 
arguments avail against the clamors of appetite, and 
the attractions of pleasure, did not leave so important 
a truth to be collected from reason only, nor trusted 
the strength of our understandings, and the honesty 
of our hearts, in a case where they are both so liable 
to be misled. If any thing is clearly and expressly re- 
vealed to us in Scripture, it is this ; that w^e want not 
the 77?^<7;;^ of subduing temptation, if we will but make 
use of them ; that " our iaith will enable us to over- 
'* come the world ; that if we resist the devil he will 
'■' flee from us, that therefore, whenever we fall, it is 
*' entirely our own fault, our own infirmity; and that 
*^ every man is then only tempted, when he is drawn 
t' away of his own lusts and enticed* ;" of his oivn 

* 1 Joha V. 4. James iv. 7.. lb. i. 14 



60 SERMON III. 

luste, „properly so called ; not those passions and apjDC- 
tites which God gave him, but those unreasonable 
cravings which he has himself created by habitual in- 
dulgence and unnatural provocations. Nay, in order 
to quiet all our fears, and to give us the fullest satisfac- 
tion on this head, we are assured, that God will, by his 
Holy Spirit, '* help our infirmities, and strengthen us 
" with might in the inner man ; that heknoweth how 
*' to deliver the godly out of temptation ; and if we 
V* ourselves cannot find a way to escape, he will make 
*' us one, and will, not suffer us to be tempted (unless 
*^ we are determined to be so) above what w^e are able 
" to bear*." 

. After such strong assurances as these, by which God 
Almighty stands as it were engaged to befriend us, one 
would not think it possible for the wit of man to call in 
question so plain a truth, as that of our abiiity^ with 
the divine assistance, to correct constitution and resist 
temptation. And indeed men are very ready to ac- 
knowledge it in every case but their own ; a plain 
proof that the reason why they do not acknowledge it 
in their own case too, is not because they want evi- 
dence, but because they want honesty. Every one 
thinks that his own darling passion is that only insupCr 
rable one which was destined to reign over the heart 
of man, and readily gives up all the rest. Believe what 
every man says of himself, and there is not a tempta- 
tion but is invincible ; believe what he says of his 
neighbors, and there is none but may be easily sub- 
dued. Nay, even in the very same species and degree 
of wickedness, we have different measures of judging 
of ourselves and other men. If our brother be overr 
taken in a fault, we condemn him without hesitation 
and without mercy, though he has perhaps all the infir- 
mity of human nature to plead in his behalf. And 
yet we can calmly acquit ourselves, when guilty of the 
very same crimes, by a thousand pretended alleviations. 
We form distinctions in our own favor which have no 
foundation in nature, v»^e find out particularities in our 

* Rom, viii. 26. Eph. iu. 16. 2 Pet. u. 9. 1 Cor.x. 13. 



SERiMON III. 51 

jitiiation which escape every eye but our own. Al- 
most every man, in spite of reason and experience^ 
will flatter himself, that there is some circumstance or 
other peculiar to his own case, which, as it distinguish- 
es hi'n from the common lot, exempts him also from 
the common guilt af other men. His passions are 
stronger, his governing powers are weaker, or the 
temptation that assails him more violent than hu- 
man nature ever before experienced. Another man, 
perhaps, might have come off victorious in the con- 
flict, but as for himself, he is so unhappily framed, or 
so unluckily circumstanced, that he finds it in vain to 
resist ; he finds it impossible to oppose a conspiracy, 
which seems formed against his virtue by every thing 
around him. 

Nothing is more fatal, and at the same time nothing 
more common, than this piece of self-delusion. It is 
for this reason that^ when St. Paul is endeavoring to 
strengthen the Corinthians agahist the trials they were 
exposed to, he sets out with assuring them, '' that no 
'' temptation had taken them but such as was com??jon 
*' to Jiiariy^'' as well knowing, that till he had convinced 
them of this all odier arguments would be ineffectual. 
To men possessed with this opinion of uncommon diffi- 
culties in their situation, it is in vain to alledge the ex- 
amples of those, who have successfully struggled against 
the pleasures or persecutions of the world, and fought 
the good fight with glory. The answer is always at 
hand : They were not tempted as we were, or they 
would have fallen as we did. One, however, we are 
sure there was, who was in all things '^ tempted like as 
*' we are, sin only excepted,'' and who was for this 
very reason tempted, that his disciples and soldiers 
might not despair of conquering an adversary, whom 
they had seen the captain of their salvation subdue be- 
fore them. 

It is therefore of the utmost importance to us, not to 
impose upon ourselves by false suppositions of some 
uncommon degree of violence in the temptations that 
befall us, or the appetites that are given to us. There 



^2 SERMON IIL 

are probably thousands of our fellow creatures, who' 
are in as trying a situation as ourselves ; thousands at 
least who think themselves so ; and have therefore full: 
as good a claim to the plea of peculiarity as we have : 
that is, in fact, no claim at all : for what is common to 
so many, can be peculiar to none. Among so great 
a number in similar circumstances, some, it is certain, 
do resist the solicitations that assail them ; and if we 
are not equally successful, it is only because we are not 
equally vigilant and active. Sacred history (to say 
nothing of profane) will furnish us with numberless 
examples of the most invincible integrity, temperance, 
and fortitude, under the severest trials, under every pos- 
sible disadvantage, both of nature and situation, that 
can be imagined. What, therefore, has been done 
once, m^y be done again. Human nature is nearly 
the same in all ages. Our passions are not stronger 
than those of our forefathers ; our difficulties in some 
respects much less ; our natural strength and supernat- 
ural assistance to the full as great ; and if therefore 
we do not struggle against the world as effectually as 
they did, we are left without excuse. 

But if, at last, men will be convinced by no experi- 
ence but their own, to their own we must refer them ; 
and if they will neither believe the testimony of man, 
nor the promises of God, they will at least believe them- 
selves, and give credit to the report of their own 
hearts. And in fact may we not appeal to every man's' 
ov/n breast, whether he has not actually, on certahi oc- 
casions, resisted those solicitations, which he declares 
are not to be resisted ; whether he cannot recollect a 
time w^hen a regard to reputation, to interest, to decen- 
cy, to propriety, or some other casual consideration, 
has repressed the violence of his predominant passion, 
when most urgent and impetuous ? The common oc~ 
eurrences of life make this absolutely necessary ; and 
every one that is not lost to all sense of honor and 
shame, and all regard to external appearances, must 
confess it to have been frequently the /case with him- 
self. How often, for instance, docs the presence of 



SERMON IIL 53 

ftoine respectable person restrain even the most irrita- 
ble man alive from a sudden burst of passion, \vhieh 
nt another time, and under the same temptation to in- 
dulge, he Would have declared it v/as impossible to 
control ? It is notorious that men can mortify their 
strongest passions when they please, and that they do 
every day forego the most exquisite gratifications, 
from what they call prudential mothes. There are 
not more importunate .appetites in man, than those 
of hunger and thirst, and yet, what is more common 
than, for the sake of life and health, to do the utmost 
violence to both ? Nay, even when the natural rage 
of thirst is still further exasperated by the burninp;s of 
a fever, yet if such abstinence be deemed necessary, 
we can and do deny these most earnest cravings of 
appetite, and in this and many other instances under- 
go far greater torment for the sake of preserving a 
life we must part with at last, than is almost ever 
necessary for securing the possession of life eternaL 

What our own experience teaches us, our own 
consciences confirm to us, which, by instantly smiting 
us for every vvicked action, however strongly we were 
prompted to it by nature or solicited by temptation, 
loudly intimate to us that it \ias in our power to have 
done otherwise ; for what is naturally impossible, can 
never be imputable, eitlier here or hereafter. The truth 
is, these specious pretences of ungovernable passions 
and invincible temptations cannot stand the test even at 
the partial tribunal of our own hearts ; and how then 
shall they appear before .that most awful and impar- 
tial one, THE Judgment-seat of God ? 

Let lis not, then, any longer delude ourselves, and 
affront our Maker, by throwing all the blame of our 
misconduct on the strength of temptation or the frailty 
of our nature. It is enough that we have acted wick- 
edly, let us not go on moreover, '' to charge God 
*' foolishly." Let us rather, with the royal psalmist, 
*' confess our wickedness, and be sorry for our sins." 
A casual lapse, or a distressful surprise, God may and 
will, no doubt, upon our sincere repentance, forgive ; 



^4 SERMON Iir. 

but a cool deliberate defence of our impiety, is an in- 
sult upon Heaven, which can hope for no mercy. To* 
accuse our constitution, is to accuse the author of that 
constitution ; to say we are by any means compelled 
to sin, is in ftict to say, '' we are tempted of God ;'' 
an assertion not only repugnant to the plainest de- 
clarations of Scripture, but to the plainest dictates 
of common sense. It is not God that tempts, but 
man that w/7/ be tempted. It is not by God's ap- 
pointment, but by man's own negligence and su- 
pineness, that temptation becomes too strong for his 
virtue. The growth of the passions is gradual, and 
may be seasonably checked ; the approach of temp- 
tation is visible, and may be easily guarded against. 
But, instead of that, we generally invite the danger, and 
court our own ruin ; we foster up sonie favorite appe- 
tite by constant indulgence, and then mistaking, wil- 
fully mistaking, this monstrous production of habit for 
the genuine child of nature, very disingenuously com- 
plain of our passions and constitutions* We see the 
<Snemy of our salvation approaching at a distance, and^ 
instead of preparing to make a vigorous resistance, or 
(what is generally the safest way) a timely retreat, we 
either sit still in stupid indolence and suffer ourselves 
to be subdued, or we run to meet the destroyer with 
open arms, and make haste to be undone. 

That some men are by nature more prone to vice 
than others, and that there is a difi'erence in the origin- 
al frame and temperament of our minds, as there cer- 
tainly is in that of our bodies, is not perhaps to be ab- 
solutely denied ; but it must at the same time be 
allowed, that a bad constitution of mind, as well as 
of body, may, by proper care and attention, be greatly 
if not wholly amended. And, as it sometimes happens 
that they who have the w^eakest and most distempered 
frames, by means of an exact temperance and an un- 
shaken perseverance in rule and method, outlive those 
of a robust er make and more luxuriant health j so 
there are abundant instances, where men of the most 
depraved turn of mind, by keeping a steady guard up- 



SERMON III. 55 

on their weak parts, and gradually but continually cor- 
recting their defects *' going on from strength to 
*' strength," and from one degree of perfection to an- 
other, have at length arrived at a higher pitch of virtue 
than those for whom nature had done much more, and 
who would therefore do but little for themselves. It 
is said of the great Athenian philosopher, that he was 
by nature the very reverse of ail those virtues which 
afterwards shone so conspicuous in his conduct ; that 
he was born one of the worst, and lived and died one 
of the best of men. This at least is certain, that, 
whatever may be the corruption of our nature, what- 
ever the power of pain to stagger our virtue, or of 
pleasure to seduce it, it is impossible we can be so 
formed, or so situated by a just and good God, as to be 
under an absolute necessity of transgressing those laws 
which he has laid dow^n for the regulation of our con- 
duct. We may rest assured that he will give us pow- 
ers, either natural or supernatural, to balance our de- 
fects. In the common trials of our virtue, the common 
efforts of human nature, and the common influences of 
the Holy Spirit, will be able to support us : " if any 
*' temptation take us, more than is common to man," 
God will send us, provided we desire, and endeavor to 
deserve it, more than common assistance ; for his 
strength is made perfect in our weakness, and we may 
in this sense, most truly say with the aposde, *' that 
'^ when we are weak then in reality are we strong*." 

We are not, however, to conclude from hence, that 
God will deliver us out of temptation without any 
trouble on our part. As wdthout bim we can do nothing, 
so neither \w\\\ he do any thing without us. His grace 
is not intended to supersede, but to co-operate with, 
our own most earnest endeavors ; and the most effect- 
ual method of seciu'ing to ourselves the divine assist- 
ance, is to make a speedy and vigorous use of all those 
means with which we are furnished, for working out 
our salvation. What these means are, and how we 
may apply them to the best advantage, will be consid- 
ered in a separate discourse. 

* 2 Cor. xii. 10. 



SERMON IV, 



James i, 13. 

Let no man say, when he is temjited, I am temjited of God ; for Go^ 
cannot be tempted ivith evilj neither tempteth he any man, 

ITN the preceding discourse I attempted to show, that 
JL to throw all the blame of our vices on the infirmity 
of our natural constitution, is in fact to say that we 
are '* tempted of God j" that this indirect accusation 
of our Maker is as groundless as it is impious ; that 
the notion of ungovernable passions and irresistible 
temptations, contradicts our clearest apprehensions of 
the Divine nature and perfections, the most express 
declarations of Scripture, the testimony of past ages, 
and even our own daily e:^pejrience. And, although this 
might be deemed sufficient for the conviction of 'any 
reasonable man, yet, in a point of such great impor^ 
tance, I shall readily be excused for pursuing the same 
subject a little furtlier, and for going on to show, not 
only that temptations may be subdued, but hon:o they 
may be subdued ; Vv^hat those means are, in short, 
which reason and religion have put into our hands, for 
combatting these enemies of our salvation ; for it must 
at last be owned, that the most effectual way of prov- 
ing any end to be attainable, is to point out the path 
that leads to it. 

I. The first step, then, towards resisting temptations, 
is to regulate our notions ; and before we can hope to 



SERMON IV. 57 

act virtuously, we must learn to think justly. The 
surprising mfiucnce which worldly allurements have 
over our minds, is in a great measure owing to the high 
opinion we entertain of the pleasures or advantages 
they set before us. That restless power of the mind, 
THE IMAGINATION, which is '' ouly evil continual- 
ly*," is for ever leading us beyond the bounds of truth ; 
and, by raising up before us certain visionary scenes 
of happiness, so excites our expectations and inSames 
our desires, that we wait with impatience for an oppor- 
tunity of gratifying them, and are very easily induced 
to pursue, and »to seize with eagerness, what we have 
been accustomed to contemplate with so much plea- 
sure. 

We must therefore keep a steady eye on this licen- 
tious wanderer, and never suffer it to fix our attention 
so long on improper objects, as to delude us into a false 
opinion of their excellence, and an insatiable desire to 
attain them, as indispensibly necessary to our happiness. 

Had the wretched Ahab, w hen he was struck with 
the beauty and the convenience of Naboth's vineyard, 
called in a little timely reflexion, and a little common 
sense to his aid ; had he for one moment represented to 
himself the folly of supposing that the acquisition of a 
few acres of land could add any thing to the real com- 
fort of a man who was already in possession of a king- 
dom, and of every enjoyment that regal power could 
command, he might, in this instance at least, have es- 
caped that heavy load of guilt and misery which he and 
the vile partner of his throne and of his crimes, brought 
down upon their own heads. But the proximity of this 
vineyard to his own house had, among other circum- 
stances, captivated his fancy ; and inL>tead, of resisting 
the first impression, and bringing his silly passion to 
the bar of reason, he indulged and cherished it till he 
began to think it absolutely impossible for him to live 
without that favorite spot, which he wanted, it seems 
for ^garden of herbs^. Unable to accomplish this im- 
portant purpose, '' he laid him down on his bed and 

* Gen. vi. 5. f 1 Kings xxi. 2. 



^8 SERMON IV. 

" turned away his face, and would eat no bread*." 
This heavy affliction^ however was soon removed. 
His wife gave him, as she had promised, the vineyard, 
which she purchased by a murder, and he went down 
with joy to take possession of it. But his joy, as is 
commonly the case with such triumphant sinners, was 
of very short duration. He was met on the very spot 
with that severe rebuke, to which his own conscience 
must have given irresistible force. '^ Hast thou killed, 
*' and also taken possession ? Thus saith the Lord, in 
** the place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth, 
" shall dogs lick thy blood, even thinef." 

Let this memorable example teach us, as well it may, 
not to allow our imaginations to overbear our judg- 
ments ; not to give more importance to the objects of 
our wishes than their real intrinsic worth deserves ; not 
to persuade ourselves, in short, as we are but too apt 
to do, that the whole happiness of our lives depends 
on the possession of the merest trifles. To secure 
ourselves against this fatal error, let us learn to look on 
things in that true unerring light in which the Gospel 
of Christ holds them out to us ; and in estimating the 
value of earthly enjoyments, let us be careful to consid- 
er, not merely the present pleasure or profit attending 
them, but every diminishing or debasing circumstance 
which naturally belongs to them ; the shortness of their 
duration, the pains it generally costs us to obtain them, 
the substantial happiness of which they frequently de^ 
prive us ; and the shame, ignominy, remorse, and mis- 
ery, which almost constandy succeed to the indulgence 
of every guilty passion. If all these appendages are 
not taken into the account, we shall make but a very 
unfair and imperfect estimate ; and if they are, there 
will be no danger of our setting too high a value upon 
worldly gratifications. 

It is for this reason, that when St. Paul is arming his 
Christian soldier for this very combat against sinful 
propensities and allurements, the first direction he 
gives liim, is, to h woe his loins girt about ivith trutbX i 

* I Kings xxi. 4. f lb. ver. 19. + Ephes. \i. 14. 



SERMON IV. 39 

tliat is, td prepare himself for the conflict by strength- 
ening and confirming his mind with true Gospel no- 
tions of the world and its enjoyments. This he v\ ill 
always find to be one of the strongest barriers against 
the inroads of vice, one of the most effectual means to 
confine his passions within their due bounds, and to 
restrain him from those immoral principles and irregu- 
lar practices, which are. the most certain consequences 
of wrong opinions. 

II. When our notions are thus regulated, our desires 
will of course be much abated ; for they are generally 
proportioned to the supposed value of the desired ob- 
ject. But in order more effectually to break and sub- 
due them, we must inure them to an early obedience, 
and a patient submission to restraint. The man of the 
world affirms that temptations are irresistible ; and so 
indeed he may sometimes find them ; but it is only 
because they meet with inflamed appetites, and desires 
made untractablc by habitual indulgence. Let the 
same solicitations assault a man with the same natural 
inclinations, but humbled ^nd chastised by an early 
discipline ; and these formidable assailants shall be- 
come weak and impotent things ; and we shall plainly 
see the difference between one who seeks all occasions 
to excite and exasperate his passions, and one who 
takes every opportunity to check and to control them. It 
is indeed our misfortune, that, for the first part of our 
lives, we are almost entirely under the dominion of our 
natural appetites and desires ; wliich have therefore the 
advantage of making the earliest impressions upon the 
mind, and gaining an ascendency over us before the 
light of reason, or the more glorious light of Revela- 
tion, breaks in upon the soul. And it is never to be 
enough lamented, that they w ho have the first care of 
our persons, and who ought to train up the soul to hab- 
its of self-government, by seasonable denials and well- 
judged severities ; that these I say, through ignorance^, 
inattention, or ill-timed tenderness, too often betray 
that most important trust. By indulging every frow- 
ard wish, every wayward humor of the infant mind. 



40 SERMON IV. 

they frequently sow deep in our hearts the seeds of vice J 
and cherish, instead of checking, those turbulent de- 
sires, which, first trying their strengdi in trifling, and 
therefore disregarded instances, afterwards break out 
into the most mischievous excesses, to the disturbance 
of our own happiness and the peace of mankind. It 
will therefore require some assiduity and address to 
correct this unhappy defect of our constitution, and the 
still more unhappy consequences of cur education. 
We must watch the first motions, and suppress the 
first risings of our irregular desires. We must, from 
the moment that reason takes the reins into her hands, 
assert her natural sovereignty over the soulj and, by a 
timely and vigorous display of her power, strike a ter- 
ror into her seditious subjects, and av^^e them at once 
into submission. We must be daily confirming her 
superiority, by exerting it on all occasions, and making 
use even of the slightest advantages over the passions. 
For every victory of reason over appetite, however in- 
considerable in itself, yet by animating the one, and 
dispiriting the other, adds new strength to the mind ; 
and insensibly habituates it to resist the strongest solicit- 
ations that can assail our virtue. 

It is with this view, and this only, that the Gospel 
of Christ so warmly and so wisely recommends to us, 
the much neglected duties of vohmiary mortification 
and self-denial, Christianity is of too tender and com- 
passionate a turn, to delight in the misery of its dis- 
ciples, or to take an ill-natured pleasure in thwarting 
our inclinations, and counteracting ouf nature. It 
never enjoins a hardship merely to see how v/ell we 
can bear it, but in order to prepare us for some great- 
er trial which we must necessarily undergo. Our 
blessed Lord v/ell knew v/hat vv-as in man, and what 
kind of management was the properest for him. He 
knew, that if vv^e never denied our passions, before 
it was absokitely necessary, they would not be denied 
when it was so ; and that, unless we strengthened the 
governing poivers of the soul, by frequently exercising 
their authority in lesser matters, they v\ culd not be 



SERMON IV. 41 

able to maintain it in the weightier matters of the 
law. 

When therefore we are commanded in Scripture, 
*' to deny ourselves ; to take up our cross and follow 
" Christ ; to mortify our members w^hich are on the 
*' earth ; to beware of conforming; to the world ; to 
*' pluck out a right eye or cut off a right hand that 
** offends us,*" these expressions do by no meiins 
imply what some have chosen to infer from them ; 
that we are to renounce the world, and all its pleas- 
ures, employments, connexions, and concerns ; to 
bury ourselves in cloisters or deserts ; to forego every 
thing, that is cheerful or agreeable to our nature, and 
consume our whole life in solitude, abstinence, de- 
votion, and unremitting austerity. This is an idea 
of our religion which nothing but the strangest mis- 
conception of it by its friends, or the grossest misre- 
presentation of it by its enemies, could possibly have 
suggested. According to the fairest and most es- 
tablished rules of interpretation, when applied to the 
strong figurative language of the Orientals, these phrases 
and many others of the like import in the sacred 
writings, mean nothing more than (what every wise 
moralist must approve, and every man of experience 
must know to be absolutely necessary to the preserva- 
tion of our virtue in the midst of a corrupt world) a 
constant habit of vigilance, circumspection, and self- 
government ; a cautious and jealous attention to the 
movements of our minds and the progress of our pas- 
sions ; a discreet and sober, not a criminal and un- 
bounded conformity to the world ; arenunciation of 
oursehes, that is, of all selfish and sordid views that in- 
terfere with the conscientious discliarge of every reli- 
gious obligation ; a strict abstinence from all irregular 
and immoral gratifications, without either declining any 
of the duties, or sullenly withdrawing from the harm- 
less enjoyments, conveniences, and corfiforts of social 
life. It is true, in short, that an exact, or, if you 
please, rigorous discipline, is required of every man, 

♦ Luke ix. 23. Col. ill 5. Pom. xii. 2. Matt. v. 29, 30. ^ 

F 



45 SERMON IV. 

who enlists under the banners of the cross. " Me 
*' must endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus 
** Christ*." And although this has been made a fre-- 
quent topic of ridicule or of complaint among those 
who call themselves philosophers, and has been repre- 
sented as a grievous burthen too heavy for human na- 
ture to support 'r yet this moral discipline of the soul is 
grounded on the same reasons, and justifiable on the 
same principles, as that strict military discipline, to 
which it is frequently compared in Scripture ; and 
which every wise commander finds it necessary to ex- 
act and to maintain among his soldiers. It may appear 
to them sometimes harsh and severe, but it leads to or- 
der, ease, security and victory. The case is the same 
in our Christian warfare.^ Every restraint which the 
Gospel imposes on us tends ultimately to make our 
'' yoke easy and our burden light," and its very cruel- 
ties if we may call them so, are in fact tender mercies. 
We must therefore submit with patience to the sacri- 
fices it demands from us, and we shall be amply repaid 
for the transient uneasiness which at first perhaps they 
may give us. We must, in compliance with its in- 
junctions, not only abstain from those lusts which 
^' openly war against the soul|," but, like them who 
strive for the mastery in the combat or the race, must be 
" temperate in all thingsj ;" must train up ourselves 
for the good fight of faith by frequent preparatory ex- 
ercises,, must, '•* keep the body under, and bring it into 
*' subjectionf" by timely precautions, and judicious 
restraints, that, when temptation calls upon us for the 
trial of our virtuc,^ our desires may be found patient of 
control, and able to support a disappointment. 

III. There are two extremes to be equally avoided 
in our moral conduct, because, though opposite to 
each other, they may prove equally fatal to our virtue ; 
a too high opinion of our adversary's strength, or a too 
great confidence in our own. If once we are per- 
suaded that all resistance is vain, we shall never call 
forth the strength that God has put into our hands., 

* 2 Tim. ii. 3. f 1 Pet. ii. 11, t 1- Cor. ix. 25. ^ lb. ix. 2T. 



SERMON IV. 4S 

bnt tamely give ourselves up on the first appearance of 
<]anger ; or if, on the contrary, we flatter ourselves that 
no resistance is necessary, *' a sudden destruction" shall 
come upon us unawares, and we shall fall into what 
may be properly called *' our own mischief." ^ To 
steer then discreetly between these two opposite points, 
is what demands our utmost care and attention. We 
must, on the one hand, possess ourselves with a prop- 
er sense of our own natural resources, a firm trust in 
God's supernatural assistance, and a thorough convic- 
tion that our endeavors, if honestly and earnestly ex- 
erted, '' shall not be in vain in the Lord ;" and on 
the other, from a due consciousness of our own weak- 
ness and corruption, neglect no precaution in our pow- 
er, nor wantonly or heedlessly expose ourselves to un- 
necessary danger. This indeed is the more common 
error of the two, and therefore to be the more care- 
fully guarded against Men are much more apt to have 
too high, than too low, an opinion of their own for- 
titude, and so fall through want, rather than excess, of 
eaution. It will, therefore, generally be the safest way 
to distrust our own courage and resolution, and to 
avoid rather than to provoke temptation ; for we may 
often save ourselves by a timely retreat, when we 
should have made but a weak and inglorious defence. 

It is indeed always our own fauh if ever we find our- 
sehes beset with solicitations, which prove too strong 
for our virtue. We may generally recollect a time, 
when, if we had but exerted tlie least resolution, they 
must have vanished before us. But we indolently give 
way to one wrong compliance after another, which we 
might easily have resisted at first ; and then, when it 
is too late to exert the strength which our Maker has 
given us, we boldly reproach him with having given 
us none at all. There is, in short, a point at which we 
have it in our power to stop ; but if, through a fatal 
negligence, or a false security, we let that opportunity 
slip ; if we suffer ourselves to be drawn a little further, 
and still a little further on, whatever snares we may 
afterwards be entangled in, ^\ e can have no reason to 



44 SERMON IV. 

complain of being surprised by stratagem, or over- 
come by superior force. , 

IV. But in order to guard against temptation still 
more effectually, take unto you, my burthen, the 
SHIELD OF FAITH* ; for this, as St. John assures you ; 
*' is the victory that -overcometh the world, even our 
*' faithf ." And the apostle might well promise these 
great things of faith, since it is this v/hich supplies us 
with one of the principal things wc want, a counter- 
poise to the pleasures and the interests of this life. For 
by faith is here meant a firm, a rational, and a vital 
belief of the being of God, of the religion taught by 
Christ, and the truth of his promises and his threaten- 
ings as declared in the Gospel ; a persuasion that God 
is^ and that he is through his blessed Son, '' a reward- 
'' er of all those that diligently seek himf ." It is 
this persuasion, and this only, which in certain cir- 
cumstances can preserve our integrity and our inno- 
cence unshaken. When this world, as it sometimes 
happens, spreads before us on a sudden its most pow- 
erful allurements and advantages, and every thing con- 
spires to make them operate with their full force upon 
the heart ; what is there that can destroy the influence 
of such dangerous attractions, and rescue us from pres- 
ent ruin ? Can honor, can interest, can reputation, or 
those most w^atchful natural guardians of our virtue, 
pride and shame ? These, alas, whatever they may do 
in some trifling instances, are found to be weak and 
slender ties, '' as flax burnt with fire*^," when opposed 
to the violence of some passions, and the shock of 
some temptations. It is here then faith steps in to our 
relief, and interposes, between us and danger, that 
HEAVENLY SHIELD, which is proof agaiust all as- 
sailants, or, to use the more forcible and expressive 
language of Scripture, *' wherewith we shall be 
'' able to quench ail the fiery darts of the wicked 
*' one-**." Of this every sincere believer may have, 
whenever he pleases, experimental conviction. For if 
he will but frequently and seriously meditate on those 

* Eph. vi. 16. 1 1 Jo>in v. 4. \ Heb. ii. 6. *% Judges xv. 14. **Eph. vi. 16. 



SERMON IV. 45 

awful doctrines which the Christian revelation sets be- 
fore him : that there is a moral governor of the universe, 
infinite in wisdom, justice, power, and holiness ; that 
in his presence we continually live and act ; that his all- 
seeing eye is constrantly fixed upon us, *' is about our 
'' bed, and about our path, and spieth out all our 
*' ways ;" that there is not so much as *' a word in our 
*' mouth, or a thought in our heart, but he knoweth it 
*' altogether^^ ;" that, when the glory of this world has 
passed away, there Vv^ill be a general resurrection to an- 
other, a future state of existence, a most solemn day 
of retribution ; that our great Judge will then require a 
strict account of all our thoughts, words, and actions, 
and will make it known to the whole vvorid, that, '' ve- 
*' rily there is a reward for the righteous, doubtless 
*' there is a Godthat judgeth the earthf :" if, I say, 
the sincere Christian will but take care, by frequent 
meditation and recollection, to impress a deep sense of 
these momentous truths upon his soul, and render them 
familiar to his thoughts, he will by degrees so encrease 
his faith, and so accustom himself to this train of reflec- 
tions, that the moment temptation assaults him, they 
will habitually and mechanically recur to his mind ; the 
rewards and punishments of a future world will instant- 
ly present themselves to his view ; the fear of the Lord 
will come upon him, and he will say with the patriarch 
on a like occasion, ^' how can I do this great wicked- 
*' ness, and sin against Godf ?" 

V. There is still one thing more remaining, which, 
though occasionally touched upon before, is, of such 
great importance as to require in this place a distinct 
consideration, since without it all our other resources 
will be ineffectual, and that is theassistance of God'sHo- 
ly Spirit. To our great comfort we are assured, that 
although the pouers of our own weak and corrupt na- 
ture may frequently be insufficient to carry us success- 
fully through the difficulties VvC have to encounter, yet 
the grace of God will be at all times, and in the great- 
est exigencies, sufficient for us!|. This divine and 

* Psalm cxxxix. 3, 4. f Psalm Iviii. 11. + Gen. xxxLx. 9. jj 2. Gor. xii. 9, 



46 SERMON I\^ 

powerful instrument of our deliverance is, as we are 
informed, always to be obtained by prayer. 

*' Our heavenly Father will give his Holy Spirit to 
-*' them that ask him. Whatsoever we ask in prayer, 
*' believing, we shall receive*." But then it is not in 
time of need only we must '' seek the Lord;" in the 
moment of danger we may be reduced to such straits 
that nothing but a miracle can save us. We must 
therefore make God our friend long before, and provide 
against the evil day while it is yet afar off, and all seems 
peace and security around us. His Holy Spirit is not 
to be made subservient to a present purpose, to be in- 
voked in our necessity, and slighted in time of safety ; 
he must either abide constantly with us, or for ever re- 
main a stranger to us. It is not an occasional ejacula- 
tion, vented by accident or extorted by fear, that will 
bring him down from heaven ; it is only upon repeated 
solicitations, and a due preparation for his reception, 
that this divine guest will condescend to take up his 
abode with us. We are, as the apostle expresses it in 
his strong manner of speaking, *' to pray always with 
*' all prayer and supplication, and watch thereunto with 
** all perse verancef." And this will not only draw 
down upon us a plentiful eitusionof divine grace, but 
improve and confirm our own internal strength ; will 
engage our attention, excite our industry, encrease our 
caution, and even suggest to us every human means of 
deliverance. For prayer has of itself a natural tenden- 
cy to obtain its own purposes, and we grow insensibly 
better whilst we wish to be so. 

It is, in short, on our own vigilance, circumspec- 
tion, and self-discipline, added to our most earnest pray- 
ers for the divine assistance, that all our virtue here, 
and all our happiness hereafter, through the merits of 
our Redeemer, entirely depend. If a man luf// throw 
himself in the way of danger, and venture to the very 
brink of vice ; if he u'i// suffer his thoughts to wander, 
or dwell upon improper objects ; if he knows his v/eak 
parts, and yet leaves them without defence ; if he sees 

* Luke XI. 1^. Mats, xxi 22. f Eph. vi. 18. 



SERMON IV. 4T 

a growing appetite, and instead of checking, seeks eve- 
TV opportunity to feed and to inflame it ; if he confines 
his views to present enjoyinents, nor ever spends a 
thought upon futurity ; if, in fine, he lives without God 
in the world, without any awe of his presence, any trust 
in his assistance, or any fear of his judgments, he must 
expect that the slightest temptations will get the better 
of his virtue, already half subdued. 

But if, on the contrary, he sets himself seriously and 
in earnest to search out and to correct his infirmities ; 
if he flies at the first approach of temptation, and takes 
alarm at the most distant intimation of danger ; if he 
curbs that busy dangerous power, the imagination ; 
** if he keeps his heart with all diligence^," and guards- 
the issues of life ; if, as the apostle advises, he takes 
unto him the shield of faith, opposing the joys of 
heaven to the pleasures of sin, and having less regard 
to a present gratification than the future recompence of 
reward ; above all, if he never ceases importuning the 
throne of Grace for the assistance of God's Holy Spir- 
it to purify his soul, invigorate his resolutions, and sup- 
port him under all the difficulties and discouragements 
of his Christian warfare ; he may depend upon it, that 
whatever may be his constitution, whatever the nature or 
degree of the temptations he is exposed to, not all the 
powers of darkness shall be able to prevail against him. 
Though he may perhaps accidentally fall, yet he shall 
" never be east away ; for the Lord upholdeth him 
with his handf." 

* Frov. iv. 2S. i Psal. xxxvil. 24. 



% 



SERMON V. 



Matthew xxv. 46. 

And these shall go aivay into everlasting fiuniahment : hut the rights 
eou8 into life eternal. 

THIS is one among numberless other passages in 
holy writ, in which a future judgment, and an 
eternal state of existence hereafter, are clearly and posi- 
tively announced to us -; and it is from these declarations 
of the Gospel, and these only, that we derive the certain 
expectation of immortal life. To pretend, therefore, 
as some have done, that we had already sufficient no- 
tices of this important truth from the light of nature^ 
and that the conviction, produced by these notices, is 
so complete as to supersede the necessity of any fur- 
ther information, is to give nature a degree of merit to 
which she is far from having any just pretensions, and to 
make a very ungrateful return for the invaluable advan- 
tages we have received, in this and many other respects, 
from the Revelation made by Christ. But yet to as- 
sert, on the other hand, that natural religion gives us 
not the smallest ground to hope that we shall survive 
the grave, and that every argument for it, except those 
which Scripture supplies, is perfectly vain *aiid nuga- 
tory, and unworthy of the least regard, is surely running 
into another extreme, no less destitute of foundation, 
and no less hurtful in its consequences than the former.* 

* It has been very justly observed, that some v.^riters, by exahing the pow- 
ers of reason, in matters of religion, too high, have destroyed the ??eces«(j' 
of Revelation, and others, l)y degrading them too low, have risqued the rea- 
sonablenfis ©f it. Diy. Leg. vol. ii. p. 26. 



SERMON V. 49 

The natural and moral evidences of another life after 
this, though confessedly inferior, very gready inferior 
in authority and force, to those of Revelation, yet un- 
doubtedly have their proper weight and use ; and to 
depreciate their just value, and sink them as much as 
possible in the estimation of mankind, is to do no real 
service (although there may have been a sincere imen- 
tlon of doing it) to the cause of Christianity ; w hich 
has no need, in this or in any other instance, to rise on 
the ruins of human reason* On the contrary, it dis- 
dains not to receive reason as its friend and ally, and 
occasionally to elucidate and confirm both its doctrines 
and its precepts, by such collateral arguments as that 
faculty is capable of supplying. In the present case 
more especially, the consideration of a future state is a 
subject 30 full of comfort and satisfaction, that the mind 
of man must necessarily love to dwell upon it ; must 
wish to contemplate it in every point of view ; to ex- 
amine it in every light, whether natural or revealed ; to 
let in conviction from every quarter ; and must be 
soothed and delighted to und that so important an ar- 
ticle of belief, on which so much depends both in this 
life and the next, is perfectly conformable to the nat- 
ural sentiments of the human heart, and the justest 
conclusions of the human understanding. This must 
be the case, even v/ith the sincerest believers. But 
there are some also (as is but too well known) in every 
Chrisiian country, who are .wr believers, and yet pro- 
fess to receive, on the principles of natural religion, the 
doctrine cf another life, and a day of reconipence. 
Now, Tio one, I think, v.ould wish to deprive even 
these of their persuasion, on whatever grounds it rests, 
that they are formed for immorta^;ty, and that they are 
responsible for their conduct here, at the bar of their 
Creator iiereafter. There are other unbelievers (for 
they are divided into many different sects) who, though 
not yet convinced of a future state of existence, are 
willing to listen to the natural and moral evidences in 
its fa\ or, and to no others. These, surely, it is of 
great importance, both to society and to themselves, to 

G 



BO SERMON ¥. 

brings if possible, to the acknowledgment of a fiitufi 
retribution. This acknowledgment will, even on their 
own principles, bind them down to a course of action 
very different from that which a contrary persuasiort 
v/ould have been apt to produce ; and will, moreover, 
in all probability j pave the way for their entire belief oi 
a religion which they will find so perfectly harmoniz- 
ing with their favorite oracle. Reason, in this most in- 
teresting point, and which professes to give them the 
most authentic information concerning that unseen 
world, the reality of which they already admit to have 
been proved*. 

Whereas if, on the contrary, with a view of convert- 
ing the Infidel to Christianity, and impressing him with 
a high sense of its dignity and importance, you set out 
with assuring him that reason gives us not the slightesrt 
hope of immortality ; that soul and body perish 
together in the grave, but are both raised to life again 
at that general resurrection which the Gospel prom- 
ises ; he will assent probably, without scruple, to the 
former part of your proposition, but will never be per- 
suaded, on the sole authority of a Revelation which he 
rejects, to listen to the concluding part. 

It may therefore contribute not a little, both to the 
satisfaction of the Christian, and the conviction of the 
unbeliever, to state, in the first placcy with as much 
brevity and perspicuity as the nature of the enquiry- 
will admit, som6 of the plainest and most obvious of 
those proofs of a future existence, which our own rea- 
son is capable of suggesting to the mind, and then 
to proceed to those which arise from the Christian 
Revelationf, 

* Thait fundamental doctrbe of religion (a future state) would, if believed, 
o|)en and dispose the mind seriously to attend to the general evidence of the 
ivhole. Butfer's Anal. c. 1. 

f The substance of this and the two following sermons was written and 
preached several years ago. The discourse now before us is not, I confess, 
of th?a kind which I should have selected for publication. But the progress 
which the, doc trine o£ rfiaterialisinhdiS already made on the continent, and is 
now endeav«oring to make in this kingdom, induced me to think, that a 
compendjots view of the most intelligible argunients for the immateriality 
and natural immortality of the soul, as well as of the other principal eviden- 
ces of a future state, both moral and scriptural, would not be at this time 
either unseaeonable or unus^ful. The j/our.g reader, at least, for whos^ use 



SERMON V. 51 

The first question that naturally presents itself on 
this subject, is, whether that percipient and thinkin!^ 
agent within us, which we usually call the soul, is 
only a part of the body, or whether it is something to- 
tally distinct from it ? If the former, it must necessa- 
rily share the extinction of the body by death ; and 
there is an end at once of all our natural hopes of im- 
mortalit}\ If, on the other hand, the latter supposition 
of its distinct subsistence be the true one ; it is plain 
that there will then be no reason to presume, that the 
intellectual and the corporeal part of our frame must 
perish together. That fatal stroke which deprives the 
latter of life and motion, may have no other effect on 
the former, than that of dislodging it from its present 
earthly tabernacle, and introducing it into a different 
state of existence in another world. 

Now, whatever difference of opinion there may have 
been among speculative men, either ancient or modern, 
concerning the specific nature of the human soul ; yet 
in this they have all, with very few exceptions, uni- 
versally agreed, that it is a substance in itself, actually 
distinct and separable from the body, though in its 
present state closely united with it. This has been the 
invariable opinion of almost all mankind, learned or 
unlearned, civilized or savage, Christian or Pagan, in 
every age and nation of the world. There is scarce 
any one truth that can be named, which has met with 
so general a reception as this. We discover it in the 
earliest authors extant, both poets and historians ; and 
it was maintained by every philosopher among the an- 
cients (except by Anaximander, Democritus, and their 
followers*) as well as by all the primitive Christian 

these three discourses were principally intended, will here find (what can 
alone be expected, on so extensive a subject in so short a compass) some 
general and leading principles to direct his judgment on a question of no 
small importance ; to guard him against too hasty a desertion of tl^ receiv- 
ed opinion concerning it ; and to prepare him for a more profound and ac- 
ctirate investigation of it, if ever he should feel himself disposed to pursue 
the enquiry any farther. 

* See Cud worth's Intellectual System, vol. i. b. i. c. i. and ii. and c. v. n. 
836—841. ^ 

Cicero (Tusc. Qiixst. 1. i. c. 22.) mentions no more than two philosophers, 
DicKarchus and Ari3toxenu6> who maintained that man had no soiU ; and 



52 , SERMON V. 

writers, without, I believe, a single exception. Even 
they who supposed the soul to be material (which was 
undoubtedly supposed by several Pagan philosophers, 
as well as by two or three of the Christian fathers) yet 
uniformly held it to be a substance distinct from the: 
body. They supposed it to be air, or fire, or harmo- 
ny, or a fifth essence, or something of a finer, purer, 
more astherial, texture than gross matter ; and many 
of them conceived it also to be immortal, or capable of 
becoming so. Nor was it only the polished and en- 
lightened nations of Greece and Rome, of Egypt and 
Asia, that believed man to be a compound being, con- 
sisting of two separate substances, but even the rudest 
and most barbarous tribes, of whom history has pre^ 
served any traces. And it is well known, that wher- 
ever curiosity, commerce, or the spirit of adventure 
has extended modern discoveries, this notion has been 
found existing. It has been found as prevalent through., 
out the vast continents of India and America, and the 
various islands of the Atlantic Ocean, and the south- 
ern hemisphere, as in every other quarter of the globed'. 
So general a suffrage of almost the whole human race, 
in favor of this opinion, is surely a very strong pre- 
sumption of its truth. It proves it to be no less con- 
formable to the first natural apprehension of the untu- 
tored mind, than to the soundest principles of philoso- 
phy f. And it will, I apprehend, receive no small 
confirmation from considering some of the more remar- 
kable operations of the soul itself. 

It is evident, that the intellectual part of our frame 
exercises a superintending and sovereign command 
over the body. It moves, directs, controls, supports, 

he gives their reason for this opinion: — quia difficilis erat a^ilmi quid et qua- 
ils sit inteUigentia. This principle, if carried to its full extent, would, I am 
afraid, prove equally that we have no bodies ; because, as the greatest of, 
our philosophers, Newton, tocke, &c. have repeatedly asserted, it is full as 
difficult to comprehend the nature of a corporeal as of an incorporeal sub- 
stance. Yet this principle seenns still to have no small weight with tke 
patrons of Materialism. 

* See all the late voyages to those parts, by Captain Cook and other navi- 
gators. 

f Omni in re consensio omnium gentium lex naturae putanda est. 
Tusca. Qiisest. 1. i. 



' SERMON V. 53 

protects, and governs the whole corporeal system. 
Now, in other cases, we see that the moving power 
is something diflertnt from the machine it* actuates. 
We are therefore led by analogy to conclude, that jihe 
soul is as distinct from the body, as the force of gravi- 
ty is from the clock which it sets in motion, or the 
wind that fills the sails, and the pilot diat sits at the 
helm, from the vessel which the one steers and the 
other impels. 

And indeed the soul itself gives, in various instan- 
ces, very strong indications that this is actually the 
case. That power which it sometimes exerts, w hen 
immersed in profound thought, of abstracting itself, of 
being absent as it were from the body, and paying no 
regard to the impressions made upon it by external 
objects ; that authority by which it corrects and over- 
rules the reports made to it by the senses, for which 
it frequently substitutes the conclusions of its own, 
judgment ; that facility with w^hich, by turning the 
mental eye inward, and contemplating itself and all its 
wonderful operations, in the management of its inter- 
nal stores, it forms a new set of ideas peculiarly its own, 
purely intellectual and spiritual-^ ; that vigor which 
it sometimes manifests in the most excruciating dis- 
orders, and even at the approach of death, when its 
' earthly tenement is all shattered and decayed ; the es- 
sential difference there is between the pains and pleas- 
ures of the body and of the mind ; the emotions often 
raised in us, without any external impression, by the 
eminent virtues of great and good men, in distant ages 
and countries ; the astonishing activity and vivacity, 
the fertility of invention, and rapidity of transition, 
which the soul frequently displays in dreams, when 
the body, and all its senses and powers, are benumbed 
and locked up in sleep ; the variety of unexpected 
scenes which it then, by a kind of enchantment, raises 
up to view ; the strange and unheard-of persons, places 
incidents, and conversations, it sometimes creates, to- 
tally unconnected with any occurrences of the prece- 

Lccke, b. -U. ch. 1. s, 4. 



S4 SERMON V. 

cling clay, and of which not the smallest traces are tQ 
be found in the memory ; and above all, that astonish- 
ing, yet well-attested phenomenon of sleep-walk- 
ing, where, though the eyes are insensible to all ex- 
ternal impressions, and sometimes entirely closed, yet 
the SOMNAMBULIST dirccts himself with unerring cer- 
tainty through the most intricate windings, and over 
the most dangerous precipices, and, without any ap- 
parent assistance from the organs of sense, has been 
known to read, write, and compose * ; all these cir- 
cumstances taken together, must be allowed to form 
a very strong accumulation of evidence, that our think- 
ing part is something more than mere organical me- 
chanism, something, in short, distinct, and capable of 
acting separately from our corporeal framef. 

It is true, indeed, there are many cases in which the 
mind appears to be considerably affected by the state 
and circumstances of the body. But all these appear- 
ances will admit as easily a solution from the hypothe- 
sis of two distinct essences, closely united, and power- 
fully sympathizing with each other, as from the sup- 
position of our being one single, simple, uucompound- 
ed, homogeneous substance. 

If then the preceding remarks have rendered it highly 
probable thatnve are endued with a principle of percep- 
tion distinct from the body ; the main point, respecting 
the capacity of the soul to survive the grave, is estab- 
lished ; and, although it may be extremely useful and 
satisfactory to the mind, yet it is not absolutely essential 
to the argument, to prove that the soul is formed of a 
different kind of siihstance from the body, or in other 
words that it is immaterial. For even granting for a mo- 
ment, (what I trust will very soon appear to be inadmis- 
sible) that it is nothing more than a system of organized 

* See a most extraordinary and well-authenticated instance of this in the;, 
Encycloppdie, article Sormiambnle. 

t Even one of the many circumstances here collected together, viz. th? 
vigor and vivaciy which the mind frequently displays, when the body is al- 
most worn out with pain, sickness, and old age, had force enough to con- 
vince a celebrated wit, infidel, and libertine of the last century (but who af- 
terwards beanne a sincere convert to Christianity) that the soul was a sub- 
Stance totally distinct from the body, See Bp. Burnet's account of Lord Ro- 
chester, 5th «d. p. 20. 21. 



SERMON V. 55 

hiatter ; yet, since it is, by the supposition,- distinct from 
the bod}', it does by no means follow, that when the 
body dies, the sentient system will also be dissolved 
and perish. The same Almighty Being that could 
superadd to dead matter, so extraordinary and so un- 
likely a power as that of thought,' could also, if he 
pleased, with precisely the same ease, superadd to it 
the still further power of surviving the grave. A ma- 
tcf'ial soul, therefore, may still, for any thing we know 
to the contrary, be an immortal one. But at the same 
time, it must be confessed, an incorporeal essence bids 
so much fairer for immortality, and is withal an opin- 
ion which has so much better grounds to support it, 
that I shall intreat your patience, while I just touch as 
concisely as possible, on a few of the principal argu- 
ments which are usually adduced in favor of this doc- 
trine. 

It has been repeatedly shown, by some of the ablest 
philosophers and metaphysicians, that the complex na- 
ture, the divisibility, and the inertness of matter, are 
totally inconsistent with perception, thought, con- 
sciousness, spontaneous motion, and all the other active 
and simple powers which evidently distinguish our 
mental part ^ that all the possible arrangements, com- 
binations, and modifications of figure and. motion, can 
generate nothing but figure and motion, and that it is just 
as credible, that the union of a taste and color should 
produce a sound, as that any thing so totally remote 
from all resemblance to the properties of body, as in- 
telligence plainly is, should result from the mechanic- 
al operations of any corporeal system, howe\'er curi,- 
ously contrived, disposed, or organized. 

Arguments of this kind, if unfolded and pursued to 
their full extent, would afford very satisfactory proofs 
of an incorporeal percipient. But I forbear leading you 
further into such discussions ; not only because they 
are unsuitable to this place, and would bewilder us in 
an endless labyrinth of minute and abstruse investiga- 
tions, but also for this plain reason ; because, after all, 
it might be said, that, although perception and reflec- 



56 SERMON V. 

tion cannot perhaps be the natural remit of mere matter 
?.Tid motion, yet God certainly may, if he thinks fit, 
supernaturally annex them to a system of organized 
matter, such as the medullary substance of the brain 
probably is. 

Now it would undoubtedly be presumptous in man 
to decide with peremptory boldness, what is, or what is 
not, possible for his Creator to do, and to prescribe 
bounds to his almighty power ; but thus much we may- 
be allowed to say, that Omnipotence itself cannot w^ork 
^a contradiction ; and to our weak apprehensions it has 
very much the appearance oi ^ contradiction, to ingraft 
self-motion, activity, intelligence, volition, conscious- 
ness, simplicity, and indivisibility, on a dead clod of 
earth ; on a substance, which if we may either credit 
our senses, or the sentiments of the most eminent phi- 
losophers, is a solid, extended, compound, divisible 
mass, incapable of changing its own state, and making 
resistance to motion"** For, refine and subtilize matter 
as much as you please, yet still it must retain its essen- 
tial characteristic properties ; and it is not very credi- 
ble that it should have two different sets of properties 
l^elongingto it, equally essential, and diametrically op- 
posite to each other. Of such an union as this, Aye 
have no instance in nature, nor is there any analogy 
that can lead us to expect it, or think it possible. No- 
thing less, one should think, could induce any one to 
adopt j|o harsh a conclusion, than the clearest and most 
'decishe e'uklence that there cannot possibly be any such 
-thing as an immaterial substance. But so far is this 
from being capable of proof, that the actual existence 
of such substances is a truth which rests on the highest 

* The reader will perceive that here, and in other parts of this discourse, 
I adhere to the received opinion of the solidity, ionpen etr ability y and vis inertia 
of matter. At the same time, I am not ignorant that it has of late Jbcen con- . 
troverted, and a very different system advanced, by men of considerable abil- 
ity. But, notwithstanding the great ingenuity of their argumeiits, I must 
confess myself not very willing to abandon the principles of such men as 
Locke, Clarke, Newton, Maciaurin, '&c. &c. ; and perhaps the intelligent 
i-eader will be disposed to think this attachment to old opinions, sotnething 
more than early prejudice, when he has perused with care Mr. Be Luc's 
Letters Morales et Physiques, torn-, i. D. 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 j where he will find 
this very abstruse question discussed, and in my coaception decided, with a- 
truly phylosophicrJ poiietratich, clearne£s, and precision. 



SERMON V. 57 

authority, and is supported by arguments ^vhich have 
4iever yet been overthrown. 

In the very first dawn of philosophy, two sorts of sub- 
stances, essentially different from each other, were sup- 
posed to exist, which were distinguished by the names 
of MIND and BODY. This distinction was expressly 
maintained by Plato, Aristotle, and almost all the an- 
-cient Theists, from Th ales down to Seneea. Many 
of them held also, that body, or matter, w^as in its 
own nature essentially passive, inert, and incapable of 
moving itself, and that the only active power in the 
universe was mind, or incorporeal substance^-. This 
great principle they supposed to be diffused through 
every part of nature f > they conceive it to be the im- 
mediate cause of vegetation, and animal life, and intel- 
ligence, and they seem to have thought it impossible 
that there ever should have been any such thing as 
motion in the world, had there never been anv substance 
existing in it but matter .]:. 

This idea instead of being reprobated by the w^on- 
derful discoveries and superior lights of modern philo- 
sophy, receives, on tlie contrary, the amplest confirma- 
tion from them. It is well known to be an establish- 
ed principle of this philosophy, to be laid down as the 

K^trem^ Plato de Leg. I. x. /z. 952. Ed. Fie. 

T^js /M^v oA5:,5 Ta :T;c^-;^e/v fr< km to yJi£iT$^i' ra 4e xtntv aeti ra ^«/5^^ 
ire^oLT ^vieciyLiaV.- .4}istctle de Gen ilf Corrupt. I. ii. c, 9./2. 407. iVc 
also Phys. I. viii. c. 5. p. 225. and ^Tetaphy.^ics.1. xii. c. T./z. 741. 
And in his book de Amin.l.i. c. .2. he gives the opinions of several 
antient philosophers concerning min'd, of whom the greater pai't 
agree in makini^ it the principle of nnolicn. 

f See those well-known ar.d beautlFul , lines in Virgil: Priridpio cxhirn ei 
terras, etc. En. I. vi. t. 724'. And again, Beuui na^nqm ire per pvinc.i,t:^. 
Georg. vf.v. 221. 

:j: On these principles of the ancient philo?ophv, is founded the plastic 
NATURE of the profound and learned Cndworth ; and also that hypothesis 
of the universal dominion of m:nu, and the existence cf a distinct, internal » 
uctive principle in every part of nature (not excepting even inanimate sub- 
staices) which is maintained by the very ingenious author of a book lately 
published, emitled Antient Metaphysics. This system few, I conceive, v^ill be 
disposed to admit in all its extent ; but yet the lovers of antient learning- and 
philosophy will receive from it much curious information ; and tlie advocates 
■for immaterialism will find in it some new arguments for that t'o trine w^ 
worthy their attention. 

H 



m SERMON V. 

first and fundamental law of nature, that matter is in 
itself perfectly inactive, and incapable of changing the 
state it happens to be in, whether of naotion or of rest ; 
and that consequendy all the motion now in the world 
(unless you suppose it to have been eternal) must have 
derived its origin irom an immaterial agerit. IS' or is 
this all. Some of the most illustrious disciples of the 
Newtonian school contend farther, that not only the 
origin of motion, but the continuance QiiX.^\s6,vt(\\i\x^s 
the perpetual agency of something different from, and 
superior to^ matter. They think it clear to demonstra- 
tion, that all the great movements of the universe are 
both produced and carried on by the unremitted exer- 
tions of some immaterial pov:)er >• and that the existence 
and operation of such a power is not only probable but 
certain, and even absolutely necessary for the preserva- 
tion of the course and order of nature*; The great 
Author of nature himself, is confessedly an incorporeal 
being. He was acknowledged to be so by the most 
sagacious of the antient metaphysiciansf ; and the most 
celebrated of the modern, not only thought that the 
immateriality of the Supreme Being was demonstra- 
blCj but that he had himself denionstrated itf. 

Assuming it therefore as an undoubted truth, that 
there is one incorporeal Being at least in the world, it 
follows that there may he more. And when we cbn- 
sider by what gradual and easy steps the scale of e:5t- 
istence ascends from inanimate rnatter up to man ; and 

» See Clarke's Dem. p. 74. D°'s Evid, of Nat. and Rev. Religion, p. 14, 
122. 10th ed. And Maclaurin's Account of Sir Isaac Newton's Philosophy, 
b. iv. c. 9. s. 12, 13. p. 387. 

Add to this, what has been asserted, and I think proved, by writers of 
considerable eminence, that the properties of corpuscular attraction and re- 
pulsion, observable in all material substances, and appealed to sometim.es as 
proofs of their activity, ai-e not powers inherent in the substances them- 
selves (which in that case musti in contradiction to an established rule in 
philosophy, act tohere they are not, that is, at a distance from their own siur- 
faces) but the effects of soine active principle, entirely distinct and essentislly 
different from matter. Sir Isaac Newton himself seenns to have had some 
idea of this kind in his thoughts. Optics 2d ed. p. 376, 377- 

t Arist. Metaph, 1. xii. c. 7. p. 742, and TLe^i Zv^mt^y p. 944. 
Nee vero Deus ipse alio modo intelligi potest, nisi mens soluta qusedam & 
libera. Tusc. Quaest. 1. i. c. 27. 

:j: Mr. Locke's Essay on Hum. Und. b. iv. c. 3. s. 6 ; note p. 167 j and k . 
iv. c 10. p. 245- 250. 



SERMON V. 5f) 

what an infinite number of creatures of dificrent or- 
ders and properties are comprehended widiin these 
limits, it is very natural to conclude, that, in the in- 
visible world above us in the immeasurable dis- 
tance between us and the father of spirits, 
there is a far longer series and progression of 
spiritual beings, each rising above the other in pu- 
rity and perfection, than of material substances below 
us. This idea of the invisible world is well suited to 
our conceptions of the wisdom, power, and goodness 
of our almighty Creator, and to that grandeur, regu- 
larity, order, and harmony, which reign throughout 
the universe^. 

Let us now see the result of this enquiry. It may 
be drawn into a very narrow compass. 

It appears that there are the best grounds for assert- 
ing, not only the possible, but the actual existence of 

INCORPOREAL SUBSTANCES. 

It is certain also, that such substances are capable of 
active and intellectual powers ; for of such powers, infi- 
nitely exalted, is the Supreme Being himself possessed. 

At the same time, we see around us other substan- 
ces of a very different nature, Vvhich we call material 
or corporeal ; and v.hich not only evidently appear toour 
senses to be inert, sluggish, passive bodies, utterly void 
of sensation, intelligence, and spontaneous motion, but 
have, by the most diligent enquiries into nature, been 
pronounced absolutely incapable of those properties. 

Now to one of those two classes of substances 
must that active, lively, conscious, thinking, reflect- 
ing power within us, which we call the soul, belong. 
Let reason ; let the common sense of mankind deter- 
mine which of them it is. 

On this short simple issue, must the question be- 
fore us ultimately rest. We leave it to every man to 
decide for himself, and a plain unbiassed understand- 
ing cannot decide wrong. 

Difficulties, it must be allowed, there arc, attend- 
ing even the most probable of these two opinions^ 

* Essay on Hum. Und. b. iii. c 6. s. \% 



60 SERMON V. 

that of an immaterial soul. But in the apprehension 
of most men, I believe, they are not to be compared 
with those that encumber the contrary system. To 
suppose that the human mind, with all its wonderful 
faculties and powers, is formed of materials essentially 
the same with the j^ebble we tread under our feet ; and 
that a mass of lead, if properly organized, is capable 
of the sublimest flights of imagination, and of all the 
various attainraents^and exertions of the most active, 
vigorous, and comprehensive understanding ; is sure- 
ly more repugnant to the natural conceptions of man- 
kind, and does more violence to the very first pritici^ 
pies of what has been hitherto deemed the soundest 
philosophy, than any difficulties that may embarrass 
the doctrine of an incorporeal percipient. Even Mr. 
Locke himself, who had certainly no unreasonable 
prejudices against the capacities of matter, and must 
therefore be allowed to be a very impartial as well as a 
very able judge of the point now before us ; even he, 
after maturely weighing the arguments and objections 
on both sides of the qiiestion, acknowledges it to be 
in the highest degree probable^ that the soul of man is 
immaterial^. 

We may therefore safely venture to pronounce this 
opinion to be most consonant to reason and philoso- 
phy, as Vv^ell as to the most received notions of man- 
kind. The necessary consequence of this is, that a 
man is a compound being\ consisting of a material 
body, and an immaterial souly intimately and vitally 
united together ; each preserving its own powers and 
attributes distinct, yet acting in perfect concord and 
harmony with each other. In what manner, apd by 
what means, they are so united, and how two such 
dissimilar substances can reciprocally influence and 
act upon each other, i.3 indeed more than ^^ e are able 

* Essay on Rum- Und. b. iv. c. 3. s. 6. Nots, p. 141, aiid 143. Whilst I 
l^now, by seeing or hearing, &:c. that there is some corporeal being without 
•me, t'ne object of that sensation, I do vtore certai?ily inovj, that there is some 
spiritzc.ilkeing within me, that sees and hears. This I must be convinced can- 
not Be tTie action of bare insensible matter ; 710)- ever could be, without an im- 
Tnaterial thinklvg heirg. lb. b-. xi, ck, 23. .?. 15. p. 259, 



SERIMON V. 61 

to comprehend. Biit this can never be justly" urged 
against the reality oF such an union, unless it be laid 
down as a maxim in philosophy, that the strength or 
weakness of our conceptions is the measure of truth 
and falsehood, and that every thing vi'hich we do not 
perfecdy understand is therefore impossible. We can 
just as easily conceive the connexion and mutual influ- 
ence of soul and body, as we can explain how the miw 
nute component particles of matter cohere so firmly to- 
gether, as to form what we call solid extension ; h<>w 
the whole process of vegetation is carried on thr<^ugh 
all its successive stages ; how the food of animals i^ 
converted into nutriment, and contributes to their sup- 
port and growth ; how finite matter can be infinitely- 
divisible; and how two mathematical lines, indefinite- 
ly produced, can be for ever approaching each other, 
and yet never meet*. When these, and a thousand 
other truths, equally incomprehensible, yet incontro- 
vertible, in almost every branch of science, and eve- 
ry part of nature, are made perfectly clear and intelli- 
gible, it will then be time enough to show how the 
soul and body arc linked together, and rendered capa^ 
ble of acting on each other. 

In the mean whiley' it is evident, that in the wid^ 
range of creation there was sufficient room for such a 
combination as this ; and reasoning from analogy, it 
was natural to suppose that there should be, somewhere 
or other, such a complex being as man, composed of 
a material body and an immaterial soul, and thus uniting 
together the visible and invisible world ; just as, in the 
various orders and gradations of beings ascending up 
to man, we see that in passing from one class of exist- 
enee to another, there is always some one species that 

* Nousne savons ni comment noiis recevons, la vie, ni comment nousla 
cTorinons, ni comment nous croissons, ni comment nous digerons, ni com- 
ment nous dormons, ni Comment nous pensonr., ni comnient nous sentoti^. 
Notre nature, celle de I'univers, celle de la moindre plante, tout est plonge 
pour nous dans un goufire de tenebres. Voltaire, ^lestiovs sur PEncyclope- 

die, article Ame. p. 176, 190 Is it not astonishing that a man, whoconld 

thus frankly acknowledge the inscrutable mysteries of nature, in almost 
every part of the universe, should yet object to and ridicule the mysteries of 
Revelation, and consider them as an insuperable bar to the belief of it ? 



62 SERMON V. 

seems to partake of the nature of both : which is, as ife 
were the link that ties them together, and forms the 
common boundary between inanimate matter and vege- 
tation ; between vegetation and animal life ; between 
animal life and intellect. 

This union then of the two constituent parts of the 
human frame, subsists till it is dissolved by death ; 
which we have no reason to think can have any other 
effect upon the soul, than that of disuniting it from the 
body., For the former is, as we have seen, a sentient 
principle totally distinct from the latter. It may there- 
fore continue to exist, and to think, when the body is 
reduced to dust ; and if it be moreover (as we have 
shewn to be highly probable) incorporeal, it cannot be 
subject to that decomposition of parts which occasions 
the dissolution of the body. Our whole corporeal frame 
undergoes, we know, an entire change, probably more 
than once, during the course of our lives ; yet the soul 
continues all the while invariably the same. Why then 
may it not also survive, unaltered, that total change of 
the body, which is occasioned all at once by death, as 
well as the^rj<fz/^/one, which is produced by other 
causes ? The presumption most certainly is, that it wiU, 
unless any proof of the contrary can be given, which I 
conceive it will not be very easy to do*. Our Almigh^ 
ty Creator may undoubtedly, if he thinks fit, by an ex- 
traordinary act of his power, put a period even to our 
immaterial part, when its frail companion dies. But 
there is no imaginable reason for supposing that he will. 
The body itself is not totally destroyed by death. It is 
only reduced to a different state of existence. It loses 
life and motion, and its organical mechanism is broken 
in pieces ; but its component elementary materials stiU 
remain ; and there is no instance, as far as we know, 
of any one particle of matter being annihilated through- 
out the universe. Why, then, should we imagine 
that the soul will, after its separation from the body, 
be deprived of all existence, when nothing else in na- 

* See Butler's Analogy, c. 1: 



SERMON V. 65 

tere is ? To assert, as Lucretius and others have done*, 
that it cannot exist, or retain perception, thought, and 
reason, without the assistance of the body, and the 
organs of sense, is a conckision too unphilosophical 
for the present age to admit. In this visible world, 
indeed, and the state of existence here assigned to the 
soul, the concurrence and assistance of a certain 
system of organized matter, are rendered necessary 
for carrying on, and producing to view its various 
operations. But to infer from hence, that such a 
system will be also indespensably necessary in another 
state, in that invisible world which immediately suc- 
ceeds this, and where there may be various modes of 
existence totally unknown to us at present, is to 
affirm, what no human being (unless like St. Paul, 
he has been caught up into the third heaven) can 
possibly prove. On the contrary, it has been shown 
that the actual existence of such a thing as an imma- 
terial, iinemhodied^ intellectual essence, is so far from 
involving any contradiction, that it is by many thought 
to be demonstrahle\ . 

The very nature, then, of the human soul itself, as 
far as we are capable of comprehending it, gives us 
the strongest ground to believe that it is immortal. But 
it ought at the same time to be observed, and it is 
an observation of great importance in this question, 
that although the supposition of an immaterial soul 
surviving the dissolution of the body is, as we have 
seen, a doctrine in the highest degree probable, and 
undoubtedly adds no small credibility and force to 
the other evidences of a future state ; yet the great 
proofs, the ^rttxt natural and moral ^yoo% I mean (for 
to these only our present enquiries extend) of this, 
most comfortable truth, rest on quite a different 
foundation ; on that firm and immoveable founda- 
tion, the belief of a moral governor of the uni- 
verse ^ infinite in wisdom, justice, goodness, and pow- 

* Lucretius, l. iii. <u. 559 and6'Z\. Neque allucl est quidquam, curincredi- 
^ilishis videatur animoruun, jeternitas, nisi quod nequeunt, fwc//^ animus sit 
iHicam corpore intelUgere. Tusc. ^cest, I. i. c. 22. 

•\ See above, p. 5i>. 



U SERMON W. 

,er. A beiiig such as this, let the nature of the human 
isoul be what it will, cm raise it, if he pleases, from 
jany supposable situation after death, to another state 
lof existence, and restoi^ 'to it that perception of its 
identity, that consciousness of its former sentiments 
:^nd conduct, which will render it a proper subject of 
ipunishment or reward. Should it therefore appear 
i(as in the two following discourses 1 trust it will) that 
ifrom considering the nature and attributes of God, the 
iaculties of man, and the constitution of the world in 
which he is placed, there are the best grounds for be- 
lieving that he is an accountable beings we may rest 
lassured, that of ii>>6rz/^=z;^r materials his sentient part is 
(Composed, iQmnipotence will not want the means of 
.placing, him. herealter in an accountable state. 



SERMON VI. 



Matthew xxv. 46. 
4 

And these shall go mvay into everlasting fiurdshment : but the 

righteous into life eternal. 

t 

THE arguments advanced in the foregoing dis- 
course, are, I conceive, sufficient to shew, that, 
as far as we are able to comprehend the nature of the 
human soul, we have reason to conclude it is a distinct 
and an immaterial substance, and of course capable 
of surviving the dissolution of the body. But these, 
as I have already observed are far from being the only 
or the most decisive proofs of a future existence. 
There are other still plainer and more satisfactory 
evidences of that important truth, discoverable even 
by the light of naturCj which I shall now proceed to 
open and lay before you. 

I. Consider*, in the first place, the many excellent 
faculties of the human soul; the imagination, memo- 
ry, reason, judgment, will ; the vast variety and rapidity 
of its operations ; the power it has of receiving such 
a multitude of ideas from external objects ; of de- 
positing them in the store-house of the memory for 
many years; of drawing them out again for use when- 
ever it thinks fit ; of comparing, arranging, combining, 
and diversifying them in such an infinite number of 
ways ; of reflecting, meditating, and reasoning upon 
them ; of comprehending such a prodigious number 
ofdiltercnt arts and sciences ; of creating the exquisite 
beauties and refined delights of music, painting and 

1 



€6 SERMON Vt 

poetry ; of carrying on, through a long train of St-- 
pendent propositions, the most abstruse and intricate 
speculations ; of extracting, from a few plain, self- 
evident axioms, a demonstration of the most sublime 
and astonishing truths ; of penetrating into every 
part of the material, the vegetable, the animal, the 
intellectual world ; of conceiving and executing so 
many wise and beneficial designs ; of turning its eye 
inward upon itself; of observing and regulating its 
own movements; of refining, purifying, and exalt- 
ing its affections ; of bringing itself, by a proper course 
of discipline and self-government to bear with patience 
the acutest pains and the heaviest afflictions : to face 
with intrepidity the greatest dangers ; to restrain its 
strongest passions ; to resist the most inviting tempta- 
tions ; to exert, upon occasion, the most heroic forti- 
tude ; to renounce, for the sake of conscience and of du- 
ty, all that this world has to give ; to abstract itself from 
all earthly enjoyments ; to live as it were out of the bo- 
dy ; to carry its vi^ews and hopes to the remotest futu- 
rity, and raise itself to the contemplation and the love 
of divine and spiritual things. Consider, now, wheth- 
er it be probable, that a being possessed of such aston- 
ishing powers as these, should be designed for this life 
only ; should be sent so richly furnished into the world 
merely to live a few years in anxiety and misery,- and 
then to perish for ever ? Is it credible, is it possible, 
that th€ mighty soul of Newton shouM share exactly 
the same fate with the vilest insect that crawls upon the 
ground; that, after having laid open the mysteries of 
nature, and pushed its discoveries almost to the very 
boundaries of the universe, it should on a sudden have 
all its lights at once extinguished, and sink into ever- 
lasting darkness and insensibility ? To what purpose all 
this waste and profusion of talents, if their operation is 
to be limited to this short period of existence? Why 
tire we made so like immortal beings, if mortality is to 
be our lot ? What need was there, that this little vessel 
of ours should be fitted out and provided with stores 
sufficient to carry it through the vast ocean of eternity^ 



SERMON Vf. 67 

if, at the same time, its voyage \yas meant to be confin- 
ed within the narrow straits of the present life ? In- 
stinct would have served for this purpose as well as 
reason, would have conducted us through the world 
with as much safety, and with less pain, than all onr 
boasted intellectual endowments. 

II. Another presumption in favor of a future state, 
is the perpetual progress of the soul towards perfection^ 
and its endless capacity of further improvements and 
larger acquisitions. This argument has been set in so 
strong and beautiful a light, by one of our finest writers*, 
that it is hardly possible to do justice to it in any other 
words than his own. " A brute," says he, " arrives 
at a point of perfection, which he can never pass. In 
a few years, he has all the endowments he is capable of^ 
-and were he to live ten tliousand more, he would be 
the same thing he is at present. Were a human soul 
thus at a stand in her accomplishments ; were her fac- 
ulties full blown, and incapable of further enlargement ; 
I could imagine she might fall away insensibly, and 
then drop at once into a state of annihilation. But who 
can believe that a thinking being, wdiich is in a perpetu,- 
al progress of improvements, and travelling on froi?x 
perfection to perfection, must perish at her first setting 
out, and be stopped short in the very beginning of her 
:enquiries ? Death overtakes her, while there is yet aii 
unbounded prospect of knowledge open to her view, 
whilst the conquest over her passion is still incomplete, 
and much is still wanted of that perfect standard of vir- 
tue, which she is always aiming at, but can never 
reach. Would an infinitely wise Being create such 
glorious creatures for so mean a purpose ; or can he 
delight in the production of such abortive intelligences ? 
Would he give us talents, which are never fully to be 
exerted, and capacities which are never to be filled ? Is 
it not far more reasonable to suppose, that man is not 
sent into the w^orld merely to propagate his kind ; to 
provide himself with a successor, and then to quit his 
post : but, that those short-lived generations of ration;^} 

* Mr. Addisoji. 



68 SERMON VI. 

creatures, which rise up and disappear in such quick 
succession, are only to receive their first rudiments of 
existence here, and then to be transplanted to some 
more friendly climate, where they may spread and 
flourish ; where they may go on from strength to 
strength ; where they may shine for ever with new ac- 
cessions of glory, and brighten to all eternity* ?" 

III. There is, in the human mind, a constant and a 
natural tendency to%voj'ds futurity. Our thoughts are 
perpetually wandering from the present moment, and 
looking forwards to something that is to take place here- 
after. Be our happiness ever so great, yet it is not suf- 
ficient to gratify and content the soul. There is always 
a void left in it, which can never be filled up without 
calling in the aid of futurity, without the anticipation of 
something more than we at present possess. Whatever 
may chance to be our ruling passion, whether it be the 
love of wealth, of power, of honor, of pleasure, we are 
scarce ever satisfied with that share of it which we en- 
Joy ; but are always thirsting and reaching after more, 
are perpetually forming projects from which we pro- 
mise ourselves greater satisfaction than any we have 
yet experienced. There is constantly some favorite ob- 
ject in view, some point to be obtained ; and '' we are 
continually hurrying over some period of our existence, 
in order to arrive at certain imaginary stations or rest- 
ing-places,'* where we hope to find that quiet and con^ 
tent which has hitherto eluded our search. We reach 
those wished-for situations, but " we find no rest for 
the sole of our feet t-" The imaginary horizon of our 
project flies before us as we advance ; no sooner do we 
gain one eminence, than another instantly appears be- 
yond it ; and when that is passed, still others present 
themselves in endless succession to our view. Thus 
are we continually drawn on through life with the same 
delusive expectations. We live upon the future, though 
the future constantly deceives us ; we continue grasping 

* spectator. No. 111. The whole of this inimitable paper (of which the 
substat\ce only, with a few variations, is here given) is highly worthy of th^ 
attention of the reader. 

f Genesis viii. 9. 



SERiMON VI. 69 

at distant happiness, though it always escapes out of our 
hands, and go on to the very end, pressing forwards 
towards some imagined good, with the same eagerness 
and alacrity as if we had never suffered the least disap- 
pointment in our pursuit. 

There are two other passions, that respect futurity ^ 
belonging to our constitution, no less remarkable ; and 
these are, the love of Ufe, and the desire of fame. 
The former of these is common to all mankind. 
There is a natural dread of extinction planted in every 
human breast. The soul shrinks back with horror 
from the thoughts of annihilation. It cannot bear the 
idea of sinking into nothing, and sharing the fate of 
that body which it used to animate and inform. 
There may indeed be some men so profligate as to 
please themselves with the thought of having their 
whole existence terminated in the grave, and of re- 
nouncing all expectation of a future reviviscence. 
But the reason of this is, not because they have no 
desire to continue in being, but because they dread 
7z^;z-existence less than a miserable existence, which, if 
there be another state, they are sure must be their lot. 
It is this fear which over-rules their natural love of life. 
Take away this, and they would be as averse te anni- 
hilation as the rest of mankind*. 

Akin to this desire of cc^inuing our existence, is 
the desire of continuing our memory beyond the grave. 
This was the chief source of ail those noble disinter- 
ested, and public-spirited actions, vidiich we admire 
so much in some of the antient Pagans. JVe^ indeed, 
ivho knoiv^ that, " if our earthly house of this taber- 
*' nacle v/ere dissolved, we have a building of God, 
*' a house not made with hands, eternal in theheav- 
*' ensf," and that consequently cur name is not the 
only pait of us that shall escape the hand of death ^ 

* This dread of extinction, and passionate love of life, seem to have op- 
erated with surprising force on the minds of the antients, and are expressed 
l?y them sometimes in the strongest and niost emphatical terms. That fa- 
mous wish of Mec?enas, Debileni facito inanu, etc. which Seneca, w^ho 
quotes it, justly calls, Turpisdmuin votimi, is no* the only instance of this 
kind. Vid. Senec, Ep. 101. and Lipsius's notes' on the passage, 
t 2 Cor. V. 1. 



70 SERMON VL 

have much higher and more powerful incentives to vir*' 
tuous conduct than the prospect of an ideal immortal- 
ijty. Yet still, ideal as it is, and utterly unworthy to 
be compared with that substantial and truly glorious 
eternity which is reserved for us in the heavens, it has 
notwithstanding no small influence upon our hearts. 
Nor is this the case only with men of exalted minds and 
cultivated understandings, but in some degree evein 
with the lowest and most ignorant of mankind. Al- 
most every one is desirous of leaving a reputable char- 
acter behind him, of being celebrated after he is gone, 
by the little circle of his friends, for his good sense or 
l^is good humor, his charity or hospitality, his honesty 
or fidelity ; and every church -yard we see is full of the 
little artifices of humble ambition to secure some smaH 
portion of posthumous renown. There are perhaps a 
few, who, during their lives may be, or seem to be, 
indifferent as to the judgment of posterity concerning 
them. But yet even these, when they are on the point 
of leaving the world, are commonly as solicitous as 
any others to clear up any thing that effects their char- 
acter, and to guard their memories with all the care 
they can against misrepresentation and calumny. Al- 
though they may have no desire of a great name, yet 
they cannot forbear wishing to have a good one, or at 
least not to have a ^ad one ; a clear proof that they are 
far from being unconcerned about their future reputa- 
tion. We may therefore safely affirm, that the love of 
fame is in some degree or other universal. We are aU 
sxiost all influenced by it to do things from which we 
can reap no present credit or advantage, and of which, 
perhaps, the world will know nothing till after our de- 
cease. When our own times are unjust to us, we ap- 
peal to future ages for redress; and we have always 
some kind friend on whose care and tenderness we rely 
for the vindication of our conduct, if it should stand ia 
aeed of it when we are gone. 

Taking then together all that has been said on this 
strong leaning of the soul towards futurity ; its coiv- 
stant dissatisfaction with present enjoyments, and m* 



SERMON VI. 7i 

tessant pursuit of distant happiness ; its strong desire 
of life and immortality, and its fondness for the good- 
will and applause of posterity ; what shall we infer 
from this remarkable construction of the human mind ? 
Has a wise and a good God furnished us with desires 
tV'hich have no correspondent objects, and raised ex- 
pectations in our breasts, with no other view but to 
disappoint them ? Are we to be for ever in search of 
happiness, without arriving at it, cither in this world 
or the next ? Are we formed vv^ith a passionate longing 
for immortality, and yet destined to perish after this 
short period of existence ? Are we prompted to the 
noblest actions, and supported through life, under the 
severest hardships and most delicate temptations, by 
the hopes of a reward, which is visionary and chimer- 
ical, by the expectation of praises of v»^hich it is utterly 
impossible for us ever to have the least knowledge or 
enjoyment ^? These suppositions are utterly irrecon- 
cileable with our apprehensions of God's moral per- 
fections, and his usual method of treating us. *' It is 
not his way to lead us by illusions and deceits. He has 
not, in any other instance, given lis natural propensi- 
ties, which he knew at the same time there was no 
possibility of gratifying, nor filled us with unavoidable 
apprehensions of what should never come to passf." 
Why then should we imagine that he has done so in the 
case before us, and in that only? Is it not infinitely 
more reasonable to conclude, that our appetite for im- 
mortality has, like all other appetites, its proper means 
of gratification ; that the natural bent and tendency of 
the soul towards futurity is a plain indication, that to 
futurity it is consigned ; that it is intended for another 
state of existence, where it will find that satisfaction 
it looks for here in vain ; and where hope will at 
length be swallowed up in enjoyment ? 

* It was evidently the opinion of the excellent Archbishop Seeker, that 
we shall in another state be sensible of the regard shown to our characters 
by those who survive us. He has, I trust, already experienced the truth of 
his Own doctrine. Few ir.en had a greater interest in it than himself, ^e 
kis Sermons, vol, vii. ser. xviii. p. 403, 4G4. 

f Clarke. 



72 SERMON VI. 

IV. The same conclusion follows from viewing marl 
on the moral side. That variety of faculties with 
which he is endowed ^ and the circumstances in which 
he is placed, plainly prove him to be ati accountable be- 
ing. Human actions are evidently distinguishable into 
two sorts, between which there is an essential and un- 
alterable difference. Some are naturally right and 
good, others naturally wrong and evil. God has im- 
pressed upon our minds a strong internal sense of this 
difference, together wdth an approbation of what is 
right, and a disapprobation of what is wrong. He 
has also given us reason to direct us, where natural 
sentiment happens to fail, and, by the joint operation 
of these two principles, he has clearly iittimated to us 
M^hat course of action he requires us to pursue. 
Hence arises a plain rule for the direction of our mor- 
al conduct. Appetite, passion, temptation, prompt 
us to transgress this rule ; instinct, reason, interest, 
duty, lead us to conform to it. VVe have undeniably 
the power to chuse which side we please ; can either 
give way to irregular desires, or control and over-rule 
them by superior considerations. Now, if we were 
to suppose a being, purposely framed in such a manner 
as to be justly accountable for its proceedings, one 
cannot imagine any constitution better adapted to this 
end, than that of man which w-e have just described. 
And when to this you add, that there is a superior 
who has a right to call him to an account, a Superior 
who gave him ^u\q to walk by, and to whom it can- 
not be indifferent whether he transgresses that rule or 
not ; who can have a doubt, but that God will in some 
other state examine into the use he has made of his 
talents in this ? 

V. If, from considering man, we ascend to God, j 
the evidence for a future state rises considerably in its t 
iniportance and strength. If he is possessed of all i^ 
those perfections which we usually and justly ascribe k 
to him, he cannot but approve virtue and abhor vice, j: 
and cannot but give the plainest indications that he I 
does so. His holiness must incline him to love and I 



SERMON VI. 73 

favor the good, to detest and discourage the bad. 
His justice must naturally lead him to distinguish be- 
tween his faithful and his rebellious subjects, and to 
make a wide difference in his respective treatment of 
them. His wisdom must prompt, and his power ena- 
ble him to assert the dignity of his government, and 
the authority of his laws, by rewarding those who ob- 
serve, and punishing those who transgress them, in 
such a manner as to convince the whole world, that 
every human being shall be a gainer by obedience, and 
a loser by disobedience. Now it is a truth universally 
admitted, that the virtuous are not always rewarded, 
nor the vicious punished in this world, agreeably to 
their deserts. For although the natural eifect of virtue 
is happiness, and of vice misery ; and although, in ge- 
neral, these effects do follow even here, yet in several 
instances they most evidently do not. We sometimes 
see men of the very w'orst principles and practices go- 
ing on in a full tide of worldly prosperity, enjoying a 
large share of every thing this life has to give, riches, 
honors, rank, power, health of body and cheerfulness 
of mind, *' coming in no misfortune like other folk," 
and not *' pk^gued" with cares and afflictions ^' like 
other men*." On the other hand, we may observe 
but too often, that the best and worthiest of mankind 
are destined f*om their earliest years to struggle with 
the severest hardships and calamities ; with poverty, 
disappointments, undatiful children, unkind friends, 
inveterate enemies, perhaps too ^vith strong passions, 
constitutional distempers, and a depression of spirits, 
which embitters every enjoyment, and would render the 
most prosperous condition of life insupportable*. Their 
principles too, and motives, are frequently misrepre- 
sented, their purest and most benevolent intentions 
rendered odious, and those actions which deserve the 
applause and admiration of mankind, expose them per- 
haps to the grossest obloquy, persecution, and distress. 
When the antient Pagans beheld such instances as these, 
they cried out immediately, Where are the gods ? 

* Psalm Ixxiii. 5. 

K 



fi gEftMON VI. 

Who will ever believe that Providence concerns itself 
in human affairs ? Who indeed will believe it, if these 
disorders are permitted, without any notice taken of 
tliem here, or any intention to rectify them hereafter ? 
Is it possible to conceive that the wise, and righteo?as, 
and alKpowcrful Governor of the universe, will suffer 
his laws to be trampled under foot, his religion ridi- 
euled and despised, his faithful servants calumniated, 
insulted, oppressed, and yet never once stretch forth 
his arm to chastise the bold, triumphant offender, and 
to recompense the injured helpless man ; to vindicate 
his reputation in the eyes of all mankind ; to make his 
*' righteousness as clear as the light, his just dealing a& 
*' the noon-day ;" and to make him ample amends in 
another life, for the indignities and afflictions he has un- 
dergone in this ? 

That such a retribution will actually take place, we 
shall have still further reason to conclude, if we con- 
sider, 

VI. Sixthly, that the constitution of this world is 
exactly such as might be expected, if it was to be fol- 
low^ed by another. 

Supposing a future judgment to be a thing certain 
and allowed, it would then be natural to imagine, that 
our situation here would be such as should be a proper 
trial and probation, and preparation for that future judg- 
ment. Now this, we find, is actually the case. This 
life has every conceivable appearance of being a scene 
V of trial 2ind probation y intended 16 fit and train us up, 
by a proper course of exercise and discipline, for ano- 
ther and a better state of existence. The faculties we 
are furnished with, and the constitution of the world 
we are placed in^ precisely answer to this idea, and to 
no other. Good and evil are placed before us, we have 
a power of chusing which we please, and we know all 
the consequences of our choice. A system of affec- 
tions is given us, to excite us to action ; a variety of 
objects is distributed around, to work on these affec- 
tions ; we have opportunities of indulging, and we 
have motives for restraining, them* We are allured by 



SEIIMON VI. 7i^ 

pleasure, by interest, by power, with no other view but 
to give proof of our moderation, our integrity, our dis- 
interestedness. The provocations, injuries, and affronts 
we constantly meet with^ arc so many trials of our tem- 
per, forbearance, and placability : the afflictions and 
calamities of various kinds, which fall to our lot, are 
only instruments in the hands of Providence to exercise 
and improve our patience, fortitude, humility, meek- 
ness, resignation. Whatever road of life we take, ob- 
structions and inconveniencies, cares and difficulties, 
quickly start up before us, to oppose our progress, and 
to render necessary the utmost exertions of our pru^ 
dence, circumspection, industry and perseverance. 
Even those irreligious and licentious writings that do 
so much mischief, give occasion, at the same time, to 
the friends of religion, to manifest their zeal and their 
abilities in the defence of insulted decency, and of di- 
vine truth- That unequal allotment also of worldly 
blessings, which is so constant a subject of discontent 
and complaint, is only a part of the same general plan of 
moral improvement and probationary discipline. The 
wealthy and the indigent, the high and the low, the 
powerful and the weak, are brought together on the 
same great theatre of action^ in order to " provoke one 
*' another to good works," and to be the mutual instru- 
ments of drawing forth the good qualities suited to their 
respective stations. And in the same manner, through- 
out the whole intercourse of human life, the collision of 
opposite tempers, situations, employments, interests, 
passions, and pursuits, strikes out of our souls those 
sparks of virtue, which w^ould otherwise, probably, 
never have been called forth to view*. 

It is a fact ^ then, which will admit of no dispute, 
that we are actually tried^ here, almost every moment 
of our lives. We ourselves, in common speech, call 
our afflictions trials ; and we feel, to our cost, that they 
are really so. If this be granted, it follows that this 
world is confessedly a state of probation ; the necessary 
consecjuence of which is, a state of retribution. Iforj 

* See Dr. Horbery's Sermons, D. 15. 



76 SERMON VI. 

it would be as absurd to suppose, that we should be 
tried, without being rewarded or punished, as that we 
should be rewarded or punished without giving any 
proofs that we deserve either. These two things are 
correlatives, and mutually infer each other. They are 
evidently parts of the sanie design, the beginning and 
the end of one wise plan of government, which we 
cannot suppose to be left imperfect or incomplete, 
without arraigning the wisdom and the justice of its 
divine author. It is not his custom to do his work by 
halves. Whatever he enters upon he will accomplish. 
JEvery thing we know of him, and his proceedings, 
convince us that he must, and he himself declares to 
all the world that he will. ^' When I begin," says he, 
'* I will also make an end-^-." 

VII. Strong as these arguments are in themselves in 
favor of a future state, it is no small confirmation of 
them, that there has been a general propensity and in- 
clination in almost all mankind, in every period and 
every country of the world, to believe the existence 
of the soul after death, and to entertain some notions, 
however imperfect and confused, of a future recom- 
pence. With regard to the antient Heathens, we have 
the testimony of one of the greatest men amongst 
themf, that there was an universal agreement of all 
people upon the earth, in this great point ; and he 
makes this common consent one of his chief proofs of 
the immortality of the soul. And from that time to 
this, amidst all the discoveries that have been made, 
in every part of the globe, there has never yet, I be- 
lieve, been found one single nation, however savage 
or barbarous, that has not had some apprehensions or 
suspicions of another state of being after this. Even 
those that are said (though but on very doubtful evi- 
dence) to have no notion of a Supreme Being, and to 
be destitute, not only of religious principle, but also, 
in some respects, of moral sentiment ; yet all concur 

* 1 Sam. iii. 12. f Cicero. Tusc. Qiijest. 1. i. 



SERxMON VI. 77 

in believing the existence of the soul after death*. It 
is true, indeed, that there were, among the antient 
Pagans, some sects of philosophers who doubted, and 
others who denied, a future retribution. But the 
number of these, in comparison of the whole class of 
the common people who believed it, was but small. 
And nothing ought to be concluded against the preva- 
lence of a natural sentiment, from the fanciful notions 
of a few conceited sophists ; whose pride it has ever 
been to show their ingenuity in combating the plainest 
truths, merely because they ^were plain, and to check 
the voice of reason and of nature, by perplexing sub- 
tleties, and unintelligible refinements. But the human 
understanding left to itself, and free from all artificial 
bias and constraint, has a very strong propensity to the 
belief of a future judgment. And, although in the 
notions both of the antient Heathens, and of our mod- 
ern savages, concerning it, there is great obscurity, 
uncertainty, and confusion, with a strange mixture of 
the most absurd and fabulous imaginations, so as to 
produce litde or no effects upon their hearts and lives ; 
}^et still they all tend to evince the natural tendency of 
the human mind to this opinion. And the happy re- 
gions of the Thracianf, the sensual paradise of Ma- 
homet, the eiysium of the Greeks, and the pleasant 
mountains of the Indians, all agree in ojie common 
principle, the continuation of our being after death, 
and the distribution of certain rewards and punish- 
ments in another life. 



• See Locke's Essay on Hum. Und. b. i. c. 3. s. 9. Robertson's Hist, of 
America, b. iv. p. 389. Account of Voyages to the Southern Hemisphere, 
published by Hawkesworth, vol. ii. p. 236 — 239, 4to. 1st ed. Tillotson, 
sermon. 174. It is remarkable, that the immortality of the soul is believed 
by all the savage tribes of America, from one end of that immense conti- 
nent to the other. 

f See Herodotus, 1. iv. p. 252, ed, Gronov. 



SERMON VII. 



Matthew xxv. 46. 

Jhd these shall go away into everlasting punishment : but the 
righteous into life eternal. 

I HAVE now given you a general delineation of 
the natural and moral evidences for the immortali- 
ty of the human soul, and a state of future recomj 
pence ; and although each of them, singly considered, 
cannot be said to be absolutely conclusive, yet, when 
taken collectively they amount to a very high degree 
of probability ; a degree which would render it the 
extremity of folly for any one to act (which yet is but 
too common a case with those who reject revelation) 
as if it was a decided pointy that there is no state of 
existence but the present. How totally opposite such 
an assumption would be to every dictate of nature 
and reason, will appear still more evident, if we now 
very briefly draw together into one point of view the 
several arguments that have been stated in the two 
preceding discourses, and then see how the case 
stands on tlie two contrary suppositions, that there 
isy and that there is not^ a future state of retribution. 

In the first place, then, if we admit that this life 
is the whole of our being, what a strange and unac- 
countable scene of things presents itself ? We have 
in that case an active principle within us, which has 
every imaginable appearance of being distinct from 
the body, immaterial, indiscerptible, and indissolu- 
ble ; yet it turns out to be nothing more than mere 



SERMON VII. J^ 

matter, endued with qualities diametrically opposite 
to its most essential properties ; it is dissolved with 
the body, and loses all sensation, consciousness, and 
reflection for ever, in the grave. 

We are evidently distinguished from, and raised 
above, the brutes, by a variety of astonishing faculties 
and powers, which seem plainly designed for some 
nobler scene of action than this ; yet with the brutes 
we perish, and all the rich endowments of our minds 
are wasted on us to no purpose. 

We are daily making advances both in knowledge 
and virtue ; we have a large field of improvement, 
both moral and intellectual before our eyes ; yet in 
the very midst of our progress we are stopped short 
by the hand of death, and never reach that state of 
perfection, of which we seem capable, and which we 
ardently desire. 

We are formed with ideas and expectations of hap- 
piness, which are everlastingly disappointed ; with 
a thirst for future fame, of which we shall never be 
conscious ; with a passionate longing for immortali- 
ty, which was never meant to be gratified. 

Every part of our constitution shows that we are 
accountable for our conduct, every remorse of con- 
science is a proof that we are so ; there is a superior^ 
who has given us a rule to walk by, who has a right 
to enquire whether we have conformed to that rule ; 
yet that enquiry is neiicr made. 

The world in which we are placed i^ one continued 
scene of probation. We appear to be sent into it 
with no other view, but to shew how we can behave, 
under all that variety of difficult and distressful cir- 
cumstances into which, by one means or other, wc 
are continually thrown. Yet our behavior passes 
totally unregarded. We perform our parts, but the 
Judge who has tried us forgets to perform his. Our 
trial is finished, and no consequences follow j no sen- 
tence is pronounced ; we are neither rewarded for 
having acted well, nor punished for having acted ilL 



go SERMON VII. 

We conceive ourselves to be the subjects of aa 
Almighty governor, who has given us a system of hws 
for our direction. Yet he appears to be perfectly in- 
different whether we observe those laws or not. His 
friends and his enemies fare frequently alike. Nay, 
the former are often punished with the heaviest afflic- 
tions, and the latter rewarded with every earthly enjoy- 
ment. 

There has, in fine, been, from the first ages of the 
world down to this moment, an almost universal 
agreement and consent of all mankind in the belief or 
apprehension of a future state of existence ; and yet 
this turns out to be nothing more than a delusive im- 
agination, though impressed so deeply by nature itself 
on every human breast. 

What now can be imagined more strange and in- 
explicable ; more absurd and inconsistent ; more 
replete with disorder, confusion, and misery ; more 
unworthy the wisdom, the justice, the goodness of 
the Supreme Being, than the frame of man, and 
the constitution of the world, according to the re- 
presentation here given of them ? 

But when, on the other hand, you extend your 
view beyond the limits of this life, and take in the con- 
sideration q{ another^ what an alteration does this in- 
stantly make in the appearance of every thing within 
and without us ! The mist that before rested on the 
face of the earth vanishes away, and discovers a scene 
of the utmost order, beaut}^, harmony, and regularity. 
The moment our relation to another world is known, 
all perplexity is cleared up, and all inconsistencies are 
reconciled. 

We then find ourselves composed of two parts, a 
material body and an immaterial soul ; and the seem- 
ingly incompatible properties of matter and spirit in- 
stead of being intermixed and incorporated together in 
one substance, have each their distinct provins;e assign- 
ed them in our compound frame, and reside V'l sepa- 
rate substances suited to their respective nature^. But 
though different from each other, they are closely uni- 



SERMON Vil. 81 

ted together. By this union we are allied both to the 
visible and invisible, the material and the spiritual 
world, and stand as it were on the confines of each. 
And when the body reverts to earthy the soul betakes 
itself to that world of immortal spirits to which it be- 
longs. 

Those extraordinary faculties and powers of the hu- 
man mind, which seem far beyond what the uses of this 
short life require, become highly proper and suitable 
to a being that is designed for eternity^ and are nothing 
more than what is necessary to prepare it for that hea^ 
venly country which is its proper home, and is to be 
its everlasting abode. There they will have full room 
to open and expand themselves, and to display a degree 
of vigor and activity not to be attained in the present 
life. There they will go on improving to all eternity, 
and acquire that state of perfection to which they are 
always tending, but have not time in this world to ar- 
rive at* 

When once it is certain that we are to give an account 
of ourselves hereafter, there is then a plain reason why 
we are free agents ; why a rule is given us to walk by ; 
why we have a power of deviating from, or conforming 
to it ; why, in short, we undergo a previous examina- 
tion at the bar of our consciences before we appear at 
the tribunal of our great Judge. 

Our earnest thirst for fame, for happinesSj for immor- 
tality, will, on the supposition of a future existence, 
serve some better purpose than to disappoint and dis- 
tress us. They are ail natural desires, with objects 
that correspond to them ; and will each of them meet 
with that gratification in another life, which they in vain 
look for in this. 

Nay, even that unequal distribution of good and evil, 
at which we are so apt to repine, and those heavy af- 
flictions that sometimes press so hard upon the best of 
men, are all capable of an easy solution, the moment 
we take a future life into the account. This world is 
then only part of a system. It was never intended for 
a state of retribution^ but of probation. Here we are 

L 



82 SERMON VIL 

only tried; it is hereafter we are to be rewarded or 
punished. The evils we meet with, considered in this 
light, assume a very different aspect. They are wise, 
iand even benevolent provisions, to put our virtues to 
the proof ; to produce in us that temper, and those dis- 
positions, which are necessary preparations for immor- 
tal glory. 

Thus does the supposition of a future state clear up 
every difficulty, and disperse the darkness, that other- 
wise hangs over this part of God's creation. With 
this light of immortality held up before us, we can find 
our way through the obscurest parts of God's moral go- 
vernment, and give a satisfactory account of his deal- 
ings with mankind. It is therefore a most convincing 
proof of the reality of a future state, that it answers so 
many excellent purposes, and seems so indispensably 
necessary to give harmony and regularity to the designs 
of the Almighty in the formation of this globe, and its 
inhabitants, and to be the finishing and winding up of 
One uniform and consistent plan of divine conduct. 
For, as in the material worlds when we find that the 
principle of gravitation, upon being applied to the se 
veral parts of the universe, explains, in the justest and 
most elegant manner, the situations, appearances, and 
influences of the heavenly bodies, and even accounts 
for all the seeming irregularity and eccentricity of their 
motions, we make no scruple of allowing the existence 
and the operation of such a power : so in the moral 
system^ when we see that the admission of another life 
gives an easy solution of the most surprizing and other- 
wise unaccountable phenomena ; and is, as it were, a 
master key^ that unlocks every intricacy, and opens to 
us the great plan of Providence in the administration of 
human affairs ; we can no longer, without doing vio- 
lence to every rule of just reasoning, refuse our assent 
to the truth and reality of such a state. 

From this collective view of those arguments for a 
future existence, which are the result of cur own re- 
searches on the subject, it appears, that when combined 
together, they form a very strong body of evidence in 
support of that great truth. 



SERMON VII. S3 

This evidence has, indeed, as I before observed, been 
represented by some to be so forcible and decisive, as 
to render the aid of Revelation on this point totally un- 
necessary. But so far is this from being the case, that 
tbe very clearness with which we are now enabled to de- 
duce the reaUty of a future retribution from the princi- 
ples of reason, will itself lead us to a very convincing 
proof of the absolute necessity there was for some su- 
perior light to instruct and direct mankind, in this and 
other doctrines of the utmost importance to their pre- 
sent and future happiness. 

It has been shown that in every age and nation of 
th^ world, the belief of another life, after this, has been, 
strongly and universally impressed on the minds of the 
common people. It has been shown also, that besides 
these natural impressions, we may, by a proper exer- 
tion of our reasoning powers, and by considering the 
question attentively in various points of view, draw to- 
gether a great number of strong presumptive proofs in 
support of the same important truth. From these pre- 
mises one should naturally conclude, that all the great 
sages of antiquity, those wise, and venerable, and learn- 
ed men, who cultivated letters and philosophy with so 
much reputation and success, who were the guides and 
luminaries, the instructors and legislators oftheHea- 
then world, would have been among the very first to 
embrace the idea of a future retribution ; to see more 
clearly, and feel more forcibly, than any others, the united 
testimony of nature and of reason in its behalf; to rec- 
tify the mistakes and refine the gross conceptions of the 
vulgar concerning it ; to clear away the rubbish with 
which the fictions of the poets, and the superstitions of 
the people, had cloggecl and corrupted the genuine 
sentiments of nature ; and, by delivering, in their wri- 
tings, a clear, consistent, rational, methodical exposi- 
tion of this great truth, to establish it for ever in the 
minds of men, and convert an article of popular belief 
into a fundamental tenet of the reigning philosophy. 
This, I say, it was natural to expect frow them ; and 
had they done this, there might have been some pre^ 



84 SERMON VIL 

tence for asserting that there was no need of any fur^ 
ther light on this subject. But what is the real state 
of the case ? Look into the writings of the antient phi- 
losophers, respecting a future retribution, and (with 
few if any exceptions) you see nothing but embarrass- 
ment, confusion, inconsistence, and contradiction. In 
One page you will find them expatiating with apparent 
Satisfaction on the arguments then commonly produced 
for the immortality of the soul, and a state of recom- 
pence hereafter ; answering the several objections to 
them with great acuteness, illustrating them with won- 
derful ingenuity and art, adorning them with all the 
charms of their eloquence, declaring their entire as- 
sent to them, and protesting that nothing should ever 
wrest from them this delightful persuasion, the very joy 
and comfort of their souls. In another page the scene 
is totally changed. They unsay almost every thing 
they had said before. They doubt, they fluctuate, 
they despond, they disbelieve*^, They laugh at the 
popular notions of future punishments and rewards, but 
they substitute nothing more rational or satisfactory in 
their room. Nay, what is still more extraordinary, al- 
though they all acknowledged, that the belief of a future 
life and a future recompence, was an universal princi- 
ple of nature ; that it was what all mankind with one 
voice concurred and agreed in ; yet, notwithstanding 
this, many of them seem even to hwue taken pains to 
stifle this voice of nature within them ; and considered 
it as a mctory of the greatest importance to subdue and 
extinguish those notices of a future judgment, which, 
in despite of themselves, they found springing up with- 
in their own breasts, f 

What now shall we say to this remarkable fact, this 
singular phenomenon in the history of the human 

* Necio qucmodo, dum lego, assentior ; cuui posui librum & mecnm ipse de 
im mortalitate animorumcsepi cogirare, assensio omnis illabitur. Tv.sc. ^east. 
/. i, c. 11. And again, Dubitans, circumspectans, hsesitans, multa adversa % 
revertens, tanquam ratis in mari immenso nostra vehitur Oratio c. 30. — A 
most lively picture of the fluctuation and uncertainty of their minds on this 
subject. 

t See Virgil Georg. ii. v. 490. Lucretius, 1. i. v. 80. and 1. 3. v. 37 ; and 
Tase. Qiissst. 1. i.'c, 21. 

J Reverens. Davis. 



SERMON VII. 85 

mind ? Can there possibly be a more striking proof tliat 
Philosophy, divine philosophy (as it is sometimes call- 
ed) which is now frequently set up as the rival of Rev- 
elation, was in general utterly unable to lead men to 
the acknowledgment of one of the plainest, and most 
important, and most rational truths in natural religion ; 
that, instead of aiding the suggestions of nature, and 
confirming the dictates of reason, it perplexed the one, 
and resisted the other ; and that some of the greatest 
and most learned men of antiquity, exactly answered 
the description given of them in Scripture ; '* profess- 
" ing themselves to be wise, they l3ecame fools^"^ ?" 
Though superior to all the rest of the world in philo- 
sophy and literary attainments, yet in some great points 
of religious knowledge, they sunk frequently even be- 
low the meanest of the people. They ran counter, in 
short, to the common sense of mankind, and philoso- 
phized themselves out of truths, which we ;76?w see, 
and which the bulk of men even then saw, to be con- 
formable to die most natural sentiments of the human 
mind. 

It was therefore highly proper, it was indispensably 
necessary, that God himself should interpose in a case 
of such infinite importance ; that Revelation should 
come to the aid of nature and of reason ; should restore 
them to their original force and power ; should rescue 
them out of the hands of science^ falsely so called \^ 
whose province, in matters of religion, it has common- 
ly been to spoil mankind with ^cain deceit t, and to lead 
those v/rong, whom their own good sense and uncor- 
rupted judgment would probably have directed right. 

The truth is (but it is a truth which the Freethinker 
has always been very unwilling to admit) that Christian- 
ity has, in fact, contributed very greatly to that impro- 
ved state, and advantageous point of view, in which na- 
tural religion now appears to us ; and many of those 
who reject the authority of the Gospel, are, without 
knowing it perhaps, most certainly without owning it, 
inade wiser by its discoveries. In the present instance, 

* Rom. i. 22. f 1 Tim- vi. 2Q. + Col ii- 8. 



86 . SERMON VII. 

particularly, the divine light of Revelation has thrown 
a brightness on the distant prospect beyond the grave, 
which has brought out to view, and rendered more dis- 
tinct, even to the eye of reason^ a variety of obscure 
points, which were before invisible to her unassisted 
sight. Hence the remarkable difference there is be- 
tween the reasonings of the an tients and the moderns 
on this question. Hence the force, the clearness, the 
decision, that appear in the one ; the perplexity, fee- 
bleness, and uncertainty that distinguish the other. Of 
this, no other probable cause can be assigned, than that 
the Pagan philosopher had nothing but the ivisdom of 
this wolrd to guide his researches into a future state ; 
whereas the Christian, and even the Deistical philoso- 
pher, comes to the enquiry with his mind full of those 
ideas, which an early acquaintance widi Revelation 
has imperceptibly impressed upon him. To explore 
a road, which is entirely unknown to us, by a feeble 
and a dubious light, is a totally different thing from 
endeavoring to trace it out again by the same light, 
after it has been once shown to us in broad and open 
day. The former is the case of the antients, and the 
latter of the modems, in respect to a future life. 

But besides the benefit derived from Revelation in 
this respect, there are other advantages, of the utmost 
impotance, which the Gospel doctrine of life and 
IMMORTALITY brings aloug with it ; and which gives 
its evidences an infinite superiority over those of na- 
tural religion. 

The principal of these are, 

1st. The certainty and authority of its proofs. 

2dly. Their plainness and perspicuity, 

3diy. The nature and duration of its rewards. 

1st. The certainty and authority of its proofs. 

After giving every possible advantage to the natural 
evidences of a future state, it must be acknowledged, 
that they amount to nothing more than great probabil- 
ity. They cannot afford that demonstrative certainty 
and assurance of this great truth, which is essentially 
necessary for the complete satisfaction and comfort of 



SERMON VII. S7 

the mind, in so very. interesting a point, and for ren- 
dering this doctrine a motive of sufficient weight to 
influence the hearts and regulate the conduct of man- 
kind. Neither of these effects could nature and rea- 
son (universally as they had diffused the belief of a fu- 
ture existence) produce in the heathen world. This 
the writings of their philosophers, and the manners of 
their people, incontestibly prove. To the Gospel a- 
lone we are indebted, for the entire removal of all 
doubt and uncertainty on this subject ; for raising hope 
into confidence, and a mere speculathe notion into a vi- 
tal and most powerful principle of action. It is evi- 
dent, that nothing less than an express Revelation from 
God himself could do this. He who first brought us 
into being, can alone give us authentic information^ 
how long that being shall be continued, and in what 
manner he will dispose of us hereafter. This infor- 
mation he has given us in the Scriptures, and has giv- 
en it in such plain and explicit, and awful terms, as 
must carry conviction to every unprejudiced under- 
standing, and leave the deepest and most useful im- 
pressions on every well-disposed mind. 

2. Another benefit we derive from Revelation on 
this head, is the plainness and perspicuity of its proofs. 
A great part of those evidences of a future state, which 
reason furnishes, require a considerable degree of atten- 
tion and consideration, and are therefore better adapted 
to men of a contemplative, philosophic turn, than to 
the generality of mankind, who have neither leisure, 
nor inclination, nor abilities, to enter into long and ab- 
struse disquisitions on this or any other question of im- 
poi^tance. But the arguments of the Gospel are (and 
thafiks be to God that they are) of quite a different 
sort. It sets before us the declarations of God him- 
self, " That there shall be a resurrection of the deiid, 
'■' both of the just and the unjust ; that God hath ap- 
*' pointed a day in which he will judge the world in 
*' righteousness ; and that we must all appear before 
*' the judgment- seat of Christ, that every one may re- 
** ceive the things done iu his body, according to that 



S8 SERMON VII. 

** he hath done, whether it be good or bad*.'' Td 
convince us, not only of the possibility, but of the 
certainty, of so wonderful an event, it appeals to facts / 
it shews us ChrisV himself, *' risen from the dead, 
*' and become the first fruits of them that slept." 
it afterwards exhibits him to us in a still more il- 
lustrious point of view% It represents him as '* com^ 
" ing in the clouds of heaven, with power* and great 
'' glory, to judge the world. The trumpet sounds, 
*' and the dead, both small and great, are raised up ; 
** and before him are gathered" (what an awful and 
astonishing^ spectacle ! ) '' all the nations of the 
*' EARTH ; and he separates them one from another, 
'/ as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats. 
" The books are opened and he judge th them out of 
'• the things that are written in the books, according to 
** their works ; and the wicked go away into ever- 
*' lasting punishment : but the righteous into life 
" eternal f." 

These are not profound and curious Speculations, 
beyond the reach of common apprehensions. They 
are plain facts ^ and solemn denunciations from the ijery 
highest authority^ speaking with equal force to all ranks 
of men, and, by their simplicity and dignity, adapted 
no less to the capacity of the illiterate than to the most 
exalted conceptions of the learned. Hence it has come 
to pass, that these divine truths being preached to the 
poor as w^ell as to the rich (a circumstance peculiar to 
the Gospel, and therefore mentioned as one of its dis- 
tinguishing characteristics },) have conveyed to the ve- 
ry humblest disciples- of Christ far clearer ideas, and 
juster notions, of a future state, than were to be found 
in all the celebrated schools of philosophy at Atliens 
or at Rome. 

3* But there is still another point, and that of the 
utmost consequence, respecting a future state, in which 
the infinite superiority of Revelation to the light of na- 

* ActEi xxiv. 15 ; xvii. 3 : 2 Cor. v. 10. 
+ Matt. xxiv. 30. xxv. 32. 46, 1 Cor. xv. 52. Rev- xx, 12. 
i Matt, xi. 5. 



SERMON VII. 89 

ture must evidently appear. And that is, the nature 
and duration of the rewards which it promises. 

The utmost that reason can pretend to is, to prove 
that we shall survive the grave ; that we shall exist in 
another world ; and that there the wicked shall be pun- 
ished according to their demerits, and the good re- 
warded with such a degree of happiness, as their vir- 
tues and their sufferings here seem in justice to require. 
This is all that is necessary to vindicate the ways of 
God to mankind ; and therefore beyond this, our own 
reasoning powers, and our natural expectations, can- 
not go. Indeed the very best and wisest of the Pa- 
gan philosophers did not go near so far as this. Some 
of them, although they believed the existence of the 
soul after death, yet denied that it would exist for ei3- 
er^. Others admitted its eternity, but did not allow 
that it passed into a state of rewards and punishments. 
They supposed it would be resolved into the univer- 
sal SPIRIT from which it was originally detached* 
And even of those who acknowledged a future retri- 
bution, many asserted that the punishments only were 
eternal, the rewards of a temporary naturef. And in- 
deed it must be owned, that there are no principles of 
natural rehgion, which give us any ground to hope for 
a state of felicity hereafter, unmixed and perfect in its 
kind, beyond all conception great, and in duration 
endless. It is from Revelation only we learn that such 
shall be the rewards '* of the righteous ; that God 
*' shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there 
** shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying; 
*' that he will give them glory, and honor, and im- 
*' mortality ; that they shall go away into life eternal, 
*' and enter into the joy of their Lord ; that in his 
** presence there is fullness ofjoy, and pleasures forever- 
*' more ; that eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nei- 
*' ther have entered into the heart of man, the good 
** things which God hath prepared for them that love 
•' himf". 

* Stoici — diu mansuros aiunt afiimos, semper negant. Tus. Qiixst. 
1- i- c. 13. f Div. Leg. vol. ii. p. 109, 

\ Rev. vii, ^7 \ Rom. ii. 7 ; Matth. xxv. 21. 36 ; Psalm xvl. 11 ; 1 Cori 
ii. 9. M 



90 SERMON VIL 

In these, and many other passages of the same na- 
ture, we are expressly assured, that both our exist- 
ence and our happiness hereafter shall be, in the strict^ 
est sense of the word, coerlasting. This, none but 
God himself could promise, or when promised, fulfil. 
It is more than the utmost sagacity of human reason 
could discover, more than the utmost perfection of hu- 
man virtue could claim. Eternal life, therefore^ 
is constantly and justly represented in Scripture as the 
GIFT, the FREE GIFT of God, through Jesus Christ* r 
and were it on this account only, it might be truly said, 
*' that life and immortality were brought to light 
*' through the Gospel f." 

Mark tlien, I entreat you, in conclusion, mark the 
difference between the wisdom ofman^ and that 'wisdom 
'whieh is from aboDe. The former, as you have just 
seen in the instance of the antient philosophers, does 
violence, by its false refinements in some of the most 
essential truths of religion, to the clearest principles of 
nature and of reason. The latter illustrates < corrobo- 
rates, improves, and perfects them. This has been 
shown to be the case in one very important doctrine, 
and might be shown in more. Our divine Master is 
indeed, in every instance, and especially in that we 
have been now considering, " the way, the truth, 
** AND THE life};" and whenever we are tempted to 
desert this heavenly guide, and to go away^ either to 
philosophy or to any other instructor, we have our an- 
swer ready prepared for us, in that noble and affecting 
reply of St. Peter to Jesus, ^* Lord, to Vv^hom shall we 
*' go ? Thou hast the words of eternal life: and 
*' we believe and are sure that thou art that christ, 

^* THE SON OF THE LIVING GOD ^." 

■ * Rona. V. J3 ; vi. 33. f 2 Tim. \. 10. \ John xiv. 6. % lb. vi. 68, 6?. 



SERMON VIII. 



Titus ii. 6. 

Young men Ukeivise exhort to be sober-minded. 

THERE is scarce any subject of exhortation so ne- 
cessary to youth, as that which is here recom- 
mended by St. Paul. Alacrity, emulation, benevolence, 
frankness, generosity, are almost the natural growth of 
that enchanting age. What it chiefly wants is some- 
thing to regulate and temper these good qualities ; and 
to do that is the province of seBER-MiNDEDNEss. Let 
not the young man be frighted with the solemnity of 
the name. It implies nothing unsuitable to his years, 
or inconsistent with his most valuable enjoyments. It 
tends to improve his cheerfulness, though it may re- 
strain his extravagancies ; to give the warmth of his 
imagination and the vigor of his understanding a right 
direction ; to single out such enterprizes for him as are 
worthy of his natural vivacity and ardor ; to prevent his 
talents and industry from becoming mischievous, his 
pleasures from prjoving ruinous, and to render his pur- 
suits subservient, not only to present delight, but to 
substantial and permanent happiness. 

It is evident that there is both a moral and an intel- 
lectual sobriety; a modest reserve, a rational guard 
upon ourselves, not only in acting, but in thinking : 
and the original word o'a<^^onivy which we translate, to be 
sober -minded, includes both these kinds of sobriety. Its 
primary signification is, to be wise, prudent, temperate; 
and this wisdom chiefly consists, 



m SERMON VIIL 

I. In the government of the passions. 

IL In the government of the understanding, 

First then, we are commanded to teach young men 
the government of their passions. *' To flee youthful 
" lusts*," is an apostoHcal admonition, not very grate- 
ful, perhaps, to youthful ears ; but so indispensably re^ 
quisite both to temporal and eternal happiness, that it 
must, at all events, and by every possible means, be 
inculcated and enforced. It comprehends all those ir- 
regular desires, to the influence of which is owing much 
the greatest part of the vice and misery that desolate 
mankind. " From whence come wars and fightings 
*' among you ? Come they not hence, even of your 
^' lusts, which war in your members t ?" From whence 
(may we add) come murders, frauds, breaches of trust, 
violations of the marriage- bed, the ruin of unguarded 
^nd unsuspecting innocence, the distress and disgrace 
of worthy families, the corruption and subversion of 
whole kingdoms ? Come they not all from one and the 
same impure source, from the violence of headstrong 
and unruly appetites, which, in pursuit of some unlaw- 
ful object, burst through all restraints of decency, jus- 
tice, honor, humanity, gratitude ; and throw down ev- 
ery barrier, however sacred, that stands between them 
and the attainment of their end t 

The passions, then, must be governed, or they will 
govern us ; and, like all other slaves when in posses- 
sion of power, will become the most savage and merci- 
less of tyrants. But at what time shall we begin to go- 
vern them ? The very moment, surely, that they begin 
to raise commotions in the soul ; the moment we know, 
from conscience, from reasi,on, from revelation, that the 
gratifications they require ought not to be granted. 
This period may in some be earlier than in others ; 
but it can scarce ever be later in any, thauvthe usual 
time of being transplanted to this place J. Here then 
you ought at once to enter on the disposition of your 
studies and the regulation of your desires. There is 
no danger of your undertaking so arduous and necessa- 

* 2 Tim. ii. 22. f James iv. 1. 

i Cambridge ; where this sermon was preached. See table of contents.. 



SERMON VIIL 93 

ry a task too soon. If you hope to acquire any autho- 
rity over your passions, you must inure them to early 
obedience, and bend them to the yoke while they are 
yet pHant and flexible. It will, even then, indeed be a 
difficult task. But what is there worth having that is 
to be obtained without difficulties ? They are insepara- 
ble from a state of probation, and youth is the proper 
time for subduing them. In other instances, the ob- 
structions you encounter serve only to stimulate your 
industry and animate your efforts ; and why then not 
in this ? Be the discouragements what they will, the 
consequence is not, that you ought to desist from the 
attempt, but that you ought to begin the sooner. For 
these obstacles, instead of lessening, will grow upon 
your hands ; every moment you delay, will but rivet 
your chains the faster, and give habit time to strengthen 
appetite. Besides, you have here advantages and helps 
towards this great work, which no other place, no other 
time, can afibrd. The retirement you enjoy from the 
great world, and the admirable order here established, 
were purposely meant to assist you in the science of 
self-government, no less than in the acquisition of 
learning. The exclusion of all the most dangerous al- 
lurements to vice, of those amusements which excite 
the softer passions, of those cares and contests which 
provoke more violent emotions ; the frequent and sta- 
led returns of divine worship, the exact distribution of 
time, the allotment of almost every hour to its proper 
employment, the necessity of a modest and uniform ap- 
parel, of temperate and public meals, of reposing at 
night under one common roof ; all these things are most 
wisely calculated to keep the attention fixed on innocent 
and useful objects, to curb the imagination, to restrain 
extravagant desires, to induce habits of modesty, hu- 
mility, temperance, frugality, obedience ; in one word, 
SOBER-MINDEDNESS. It may be thought, perhaps, 
that the regulation of dress, and diet, and amusement, 
and such-like trifles, are below the notice of a great and 
learned body. But it is a mistake to think so. Order 
and regularity in the minutest points, tend to introduce 



94 SERMON VIII. 

them, nay, are necessary to introduce them, in the 
greatest; accustom the mind to restraint, and insensi- 
bly form it to the practice of vigilance and self-denial. 

It is, in short, the excellent discipline established in 
these societies, which is their greatest glory, and must 
be their firmest support. It is what most eminently 
distinguishes the universities of Great Britain from all 
others in the world, and justly renders diem the admira- 
tion of every one whom curiosity draws from other 
climes to visit them. This distinction, then, so honor- 
able to ourselves, so beneficial to those we educate, it is 
of the utmost importance for us to maintain with in- 
flexible firmness and resolution. We cannot, without 
some hazard, give up the smallest article of good gov- 
ernment : but in those points v»^hich relate immediately 
to morals, the least relaxation must tend to subvert our 
credit, and even endanger our existence. In a place 
saered to virtue and religion, no species of vice, no 
kind of temptation to vice, can, for one moment, be tol- 
erated or connived at. We shall not be allowed to say 
in our defence, that we only keep pace with the man- 
ners of the age : this will be deemed our reproach ra- 
ther than our excuse. It is our business, not meanly 
*' to follow a multitude to do evil ;" not to conform to 
the corrupt fashions of the times, but by our precepts 
and our example to fortify our young disciples against 
them. It is evident that the world expects from us a 
more than ordinary degree of watchfulness over our 
conduct. It expects that the correction of national 
abuses should beghi here. And the expectation is not 
unreasonable. Whence should general reformation 
take its rise, if ever it rise at all, but from the two great 
sources of Learning and Religion ? We are as lights 
set on an eminence, shining at present indeed, in a dark 
place^ in the midst of luxury and profusion, but able, 
perhaps, by degrees, to disperse the gloom of the sur- 
rounding prospect. If we cannot check the excesses 
of the present age, we may at least crush future extra- 
vagancies in their birth, by infusing into our youth those 
lessons and those habits of frugality, abstinence, and 



SERMON VIII. fS 

sober-mindedness, which are essential to the welfare 
both of the universities and of the state. 

II. The other great branch of sober-mindedness, 
which we must recommend to young men, is the gov- 
ernment of the understanding. 

There is a great variety of intellectual errors, into 
which, without a proper conduct of the understanding, 
or, in other words, without a sound and well- cultiva- 
ted judgment, the young student will be extremely 
apt to fall. Of these I shall single out only one, a- 
gainst which it seems at present more peculiarly ne- 
cessary to caution him, and that is an insatiable thirst 
for novelty. The Athenians, we know, in the decline 
of their state, " spent their time in nothing else but 
** either to tell or to hear some new thing-^^". In this 
respect, whatever may be the case in others, we fall 
very little short of that elegant but corrupt people ; and 
the greater part of those who write for popular ap- 
plause, a.*e determined at any rate to gratify this ex- 
travagant passion. For this purpose they hold it ne- 
cessary to depart, as far as possible, from the plain 
direct road of nature, simplicity, and good sense ; 
which being unfortunately pre- occupied by those great 
masters of composition, the antients, and such of the 
moderns as have trod in their steps, leave them no 
room in that walk for the distinction at which they 
aim. They strike out therefore into untried and path- 
less regions, and there strain every nerA^e, and put in 
practice every artifice, to catch the attention and excite 
the wonder of mankind. Hence all those various cor- 
ruptions in literature, those affectations of singularity 
and originality, those quaint conceits, abrupt digres- 
sions, indecent allusions, wild starts of fancy, and 
every other obliquity of a distorted wit, which vitiate 
the taste, corrupt the morals, and pervert the princi- 
ples of young and injudicious readersf. Hence too 
all those late profound discoveries — that to give youth 

* Acts xvii. 21. 
t Certain eccentric compositions are here alluded to, which were at that 
time (1767) much in fashion, and have as usual produced a multitude of 
wretched imitators of a species of writing which does not admit, and.i» 
hot worthy, of imitation. 



96 SERMON VIII. 

a religious education is to fill them with bigotry and 
prejudice ; that the right way to teach mQ^^ality is to 
make vice appear amiable ; that true wisdom and phi- 
losophy consist in doubting of every thing, in com- 
bating all received opinions, and confounding the most 
obvious dictates of common sense in the inexplicable 
mazes of metaphysical refinement ; that all establish- 
ments, civil or religious, are iniquitous and pernicious 
usurpations on the liberties of mankind ; that the on- 
ly way to be a good Christian, is to disbelieve above 
one half of the Gospel ; that piety and self-govern^ 
ment are duties not worth a wise man's notice ; that 
benevolence is the sum of all virtue and all religion, 
and that one great proof of our benevolence is to set 
mankind afloat in uncertainty, and make them as un- 
easy and hopeless as we can. 

When these positions are thus collected together^ 
and proposed without sophistry or disguise to a plain 
understanding, they appear more like the feverish 
dreams of a disordered imagination, than the serious 
assertions of sober and reasonable men. And yet 
they are notoriously nothing more than a faithful com- 
pendium of what some of the most favorite authors 
of the age, both foreign and domestic, avowedly re^ 
commend to us, as maxims of wisdom and rules of 
conduct. Were they actually adopted as such by the 
bulk of the people, it is easy to see what wild work 
they would make in society. In effect, the recent op- 
portunities we have had in this island, of observing 
the ridiculous extravagancies resulting from those 
principles, and the infinite absurdities of a practice 
formed on the too- prevailing system of modern ethics^ 
are abundantly sufficient to convince us of their utter 
unfitness for the uses ?ind the duties of common life, 
as well as for the purposes of the life to come. It be- 
hoves us, therefore, to guard our young disciples, 
with the utmost care, against this visionary fantastic 
philosophy, which owes its birth to the concurrence 
of much vanity and little judgment with a warm and 
langoverned imagination, and is studious to recom- 



SERMON VIII. 97 

mend itself by the united charms of novelty and elo- 
quence. These are indeed to young minds attractions 
almost irresistible ; butyetaright culture of the un- 
derstanding will be an effectual security against them ; 
and, with some few improvements, there cannot, per- 
haps, be a better for that purpose, than the course of 
study marls:ed out by the wisdom of the university to 
the youth of this place ; and which, to their praise be 
it spoken, is pursued by them with astonishing applica- 
tion and success. 

That judicious mixture of polite letters and philo- 
sophic sciences, tvhich is the necessary preparative for 
their first degree, is admirably calculated at once to 
refine their taste, enlarge their notions, and exalt their 
minds. By beginning in the first place with classi- 
cal LITERATURE, and improving the acquaintance 
they have already made with the best and purest wri- 
ters of antiquity, they will insensibly acquire a relish 
for true simplicity and chastity of composition. They 
will learn strength and clearness of conception, accura- 
cy, order, correctness, copiousness, elegance and dig- 
nity of expression. They will find that the most 
justly approved writers of our own times have formed 
themselves on those great models ; and (as one, who 
well understood what originality was, expresses him- 
self ) they will perceive that, "a true genius is not 
any bold writer, who breaks through the rules of de- 
cency to distinguish himself by the singularity of his 
opinions ; but one who, on a deserving subject, is 
able to open new scenes, and discover a vein of true 
and noble thinking, which never entered into any im- 
agination before ; every stroke of whose pen is worth 
all the paper blotted by hundreds of others in the 
whole eourse of their lives*. 

The cultivation of logic, at the same time, and 
the most useful and practical branches of the mathe- 
matics (which are excellent examples of severe rea- 
soning and sagacious investigation) will also be of sin- 

* Swif.'s proposal for correcting, improving, and ascertaining^ the Eng- 
lish tongue ; in a letter to lord Oxford. 

N 



gnkr lise in pres^ervihg dttr youth ftbrh error, in every 
subsequent pairt of knowledge. It will teach them to" 
arrange, and methodize, and connect their thoughts ; 
to examine the arguments of others \vith a nice and 
critical penetration ; to pursue them through a Idrtg 
concateti^tion of dependent propositions, and discover 
Whether aiiy link in the chain of proofs be wanting ;. 
to distinguish sense from sound, ideas from words,- 
hasty and peremptory decisions fom jUst and legiti- 
mate conclusions. It will put them upon theif guctrd 
against bold and novel opinions, especially if address- 
ed to the imagination by strokes of wit, or to tlie 
heart by affecting descriptions, rather than to the un- 
derstanding by sound and conclusive reasoning. By 
keeping their judgment in constant exercise, it will 
impro\'e and strengthen that excellent and useful, but 
little regarded, faculty. It will instruct them in the 
Several degrees of certainty, and the various kinds of 
proof, of which different subjects are capable ; the just 
grounds of doubt, assent, or disbelief; the true limits 
and extent of the human understanding ; that precise 
point, in short, at which our Curiosity ought to stop^ 
and beyond which, all is imcertainty, conjecture, and 
darkness. 

The first suitable employment of our thinds, tliiis 
improved, is to turn their new-acquired sagacity in- 
ward upon themselves, and, with the help of the best 
ethical writers, antient aiid modern, to make a careful 
inspection into their own wonderful frame and consti- 
tution. This leads us into the province of moral 
PHiLOsorHY; by the aid of which we shall perceive 
more distinctly the nature and true value of the ration- 
al, the social, the selfish principles of action within us, 
and what tenor of life they point out to us as best ac- 
commodated to our circumstances, and calculated to 
pi'oduce the most substantial happiness. By leading 
young people early into such enquiries as these, many 
things may be taught them of unspeakable use to them- 
selves and others, and many admirable rules suggested 
to them for the regulation of their future conduct. 



SpRMON Vlil. ^ 

After this snrve}- of the movaly it is time to coulem-. 
plate the wondprs of the material world. The great 
volume of nature is therefore now open upon the stu- 
dent. He is led by the hand of science tlirough all the 
astonishing and sublime discoveries of the newtoni- 
jiN PHILOSOPHY. He is made acquainted with the se- 
veral projDcrties of matter, in all its various forms and 
modifications, pn this globe of earth ; and furnished 
with principles for increasing and improving the po% 
venienccs of common life. He is then transported tp 
distant planets and other worlds. He investigates the 
laws that govern their revolutions, and the forces th^t 
retain them in their orbits. *' He considers the sut| 
*/ when it shineth, and the mooii waling in brightr 
" ness*," and all the host of heaven standing in array 
before him : and sometimes extends his thoughts eve^ 
beyond these, beyond the reach of sense, to nev/ firn>^T 
ments and new lights, rising up to his imagination, in 
endless succession, through the regions of unbounded 
space. But so far is he from being " secretly enticed f," 
^s some have formerlv been, to convert his admiration 
of these glorious luminaries, into an impious adoratioi^ 
of them, that they serve only, ^s they naturally shoul4 
do, to carry him up to their great Author^ even the 
* ' Fatli^r of lights J . " He sees the deity plainly wrtt^ 
ten i,n these splendid characters, he derives from them 
thejustcst and most magnificent conceptions of his na- 
ture and attributes, and thus lays a firm and sohd foun* 
-dation for the superstructure of natural eeligid^j 
which forms the next gre^t object of his attention. 

\\\ the pursu it of this most important branch of know- 
ledge, he will perceive how far the powers of nature and 
of reason are capable of going, in estabUshing those 
great fundamental truths of religion ; the bein^ of ^ 
God, a superintending Providence^ a moral governr 
ment of the universe, the essential and unalterable dif- 
ference between right and wrong, virtue and vice, a fu- 
ture state of existence and of retribytion, and the obli- 
gations which such a system of things imposes on evpry 

* Job xxxl 2^. t lb. xxxi. 27. + James i. 17. 



100 SERMON VIIL 

rational agent to conform his conduct to the will of the 
Creator ; as far as it can be collected from the consti- 
tution of the world, from the genuine sentiments of na- 
ture, the faculties of the human mind, and the attributes 
of the Deity himself. In these researches, he will find 
tight enough to determine an honest and unprejudiced 
mind to the belief of all the above-mentioned momen- 
tous doctrines, and obscurity enough to make him ear- 
nestly wish for clearer evidence, and more authentic 
information, on subjects of such infinite importance. 
After thes^ enquiries, the student's next advance is 

to METAPHYSICAL SPECULATIONS. TIlCSC, it mUSt 

be owned, have been but too often employed in under- 
mining and subverting the clearest principles of mora- 
lity and religion. But when carried only to a certain 
point, under the direction of a sound judgment and an 
honest mind, some knowledge of them may be attend- 
ed with singular advantages^. It will secure the young 
student from being caught in the snares which sophists 
sometimes weave out of those slender materials ; will 
teach him to abstract and generalize, and simplify his 
ideas ; will qualify him to drag out falsehood and scep- 
ticism from the midst of those obscure, and intricate, 
and crooked mazes, in which they love to wander ; to 
detect the endless errors, into which excessive subtilty 
and false refinement must necessarily lead us ; to per- 
ceive that a quick understanding may as easily miss the 
iniddle point where truth resides, by going beyond it, 
as a dull one, by falling short of it ; and that there are in 
religion, as in all sciences, certain primary and funda- 
mental truths, which arc only obscured by much rea^ 
soning, and which, after having been once firmly es- 
tablished, should be laid up as first principles in the 
mind, where no subtle objections or acute distinctions 
should be allowed to weaken or destroy their force. 

* A verey convincing proof of this we have lately had, in that most mas- 
terly piece of reasoning, called Divine Benevolence asserted, &c. by Dr. Bal- 
guy. Whoever has read this with the attention it requires and deserves, 
will most earnestly wish that nothins may prevent the learned author from 
gratifying the public with t^at larger ivori, of which the treatise we ?.re 
speaking of is only a small specimen. 



SERMON VIII. 101 

Thus do each of the several branches of learning, 
which compose the plan of education in this place, con- 
tribute something towards the sober-mindedness 
recommended by St. Paul. And, what is of still greater 
importance, the fund of knowledge which our youth 
will probably acquire in the prosecution of these stu- 
dies, nay even the very difficulties which may sometimes 
obstruct their progress, will gradually prepare their un- 
derstandings for the admission of still nobler ideas, and 
sublimer contemplations. In their pursuit, more espe- 
cially, of moral and religious truth, they will find, as I 
before remarked, so much wanting to give complete 
satisfaction to the mind, that they cannot but see the 
absolute necessity of some more perfect system of doc- 
trines and of duties, to supply the many defects of na- 
tural religion, to strengthen its obligations, to enforce 
it with proper sanctions, and to give it a vital and ef^ 
fectual influence upon the heart. 

Under the impression of such reflections as these, it 
is obvious that there cannot be a more proper time for 
carrying the young academic still one step further, and 
giving him some insight into the nature, the design, the 
evidences , and the precepts of the c h r i s t i a n r e v e - 

LATION. 

But here unfortunately we are obliged to stop. For 
this most important part of education no adequate^ no 
public provision is yet made in this universit3^ Reveal- 
ed -religion has not yet a proper rank assigned it here 
among the other initiatory sciences ; is not made an 
indispensable qualiiication for academical honors and re- 
wards ; has not, in short, all that regard paid to it, 
which its own intrinsic worth, and the peculiar circum- 
stances at present attending it, seem to demand. 

It is well known, that an unbounded freedom is now 
indulged to the publication of the most licentious opin- 
ions ; and that these are not, as formerly, confined to 
bulky volumes of infidelity, or to dull and phlegmatic 
reasoners ; but are dispersed throughout the nation in 
the most commodious and pleasing vehicles, in works 
ef fancy and amusement, and even useful information, 



102 SERMON VIII. 

which diffuse irreligion almost imperceptibly throisgh 
the kingdom, and on which i^en of real geniys do not 
scruple to waste their time and misapply their talents- 
^hese are th^ books most likely Ilo fall into the hands, 
.^nd to captivate the hearts, of young men of rank and 
fortune at that very dangerous period of life, when they 
first leave their colleges to mingle in the great world ; 
and on these, if they have not here been taught sovind- 
^r principles and better things, they will most probably 
form their notions of religion, and regulate their fu- 
ti-ire coftcluct. Add to this that a very great part of 
those who are bred up among us to the church, and 
from whose pious labors we must chiefly hope for a re- 
medy to these evils, are frequently obliged, by the 
straitness of their circumstances, to enter on the mini- 
sterial office withiu a very short time after they have ta- 
ken their first degree, and are, many of them, irnmedi- 
ately engaged in large and laborious cures. If therefore^ 
they have not before this time acquired some tolerable 
knowledge of their profession, how can th^y imclert^ke 
lo explain the Gospel to others, and defend it against 
so many formidable opposers ? In the two other 
learned professions, law and physic, a regular 
course of study in the theory of each is generally 
c}eemecl requisite, before those who engage in either 
^>ink it safe or creditable to venture on th^ prac- 
tical part of their business. And it will be diffir 
cult, I conceive, to assign a satisfactory reason, why 
•^ competent kind of professional knowledge is not 
equally necessary to the divine, previous to his emharkr 
ing in the various and laborious functions of his sacred 
calling ; unless it be piaintained, that the future salva^ 
tion of mankind is a matter of less importance thai^ 
tJieir tep:iporal property or their bodily health. 

Does i^ not then seem highly adviseable for us t^ 
ttirn our thoughts a little more towards this great ob- 
ject than has been hitherto deemed requisite ? It i? 
%vuQ, indeed, that some acquaintance with tl\e abstru- 
^er sciences may be a very proper foundation even for 
t|:jeolo.gical learning. But it cannot surely be aecesstir 



SERMON VIII. 16* 

ry to lay this foundation so eJcceedingly deep as is here 
generally done. It cannbt be necessary to consume 
the flower and \ngor of the youthful mind, in the very 
first stage as it were of its Hterary progress ; to occu- 
py it wholly for three entire years m these preparatory 
studies, when it should be going oh to the *' principles'* 
^hd elements at least '' of the doctrine of Christ* ;'* 
should be advancing gradually from the foundation to 
the superstructure ; should be learning under wise and 
experienced " master-builders," to erect that sacred 
edifice of divine knowledge, which must he its strong 
hold ahd foltr^ss against the many adversaries it will 
soon have to contend with. If this great work is not 
carried on to a certain point, during the course of ed- 
ucation in this place ; when can we hope that it ever 
will ? They who come here with a view to the means, 
not of acquiring, but of adorning a fortune, no sooner 
quit this literary retirement, than they engage with ar- 
dor in the various pursuits of fashionable life, and have 
seldom either inclination or leisure for studies of a seri- 
ous nature. They who are destined to secular profes- 
sions, or other active employments, find themselves, 
after leaving this place, so fully occupied, first in 
learning, and then discharging, the duties of their re- 
spective vocations, that they can scarce ever bring 
themselves to bestow that degree of attention on reli- 
gious enquiries \vhich their importance deserves. It is 
here, then, or no where, that this great object must 
be brought home to their thoughts, and made a part, 
an essential part, of their academic acquirements. And 
this necessity (as I have already remarked) is still more 
apparent Uith respect to those who are sent here to 
qualify themselves for the pastoral office ; whose pe- 
culiar province and business it will be to instruct the 
people committed to their care '' in the words of eter- 
*' nal life," and who must therefore never expose 
themselves to' the hazard of that insulting question, 
*' Thou that teachest another, teachest thou not Jirst 
thyself?" 

* Heb. vi. 1. 



104 SERMON VIII. 

It must be acknowledged, indeed, and it is ac- 
knowledged with pleasure, that in many private col- 
leges, the great outlines of the Christian dispensation 
are, by the excellent tutors with Which this place 
abounds, explained and illustrated in a very able man- 
ner, to their respective pupils. But if there be any 
weight in what has been here suggested, it will be well 
worthy of our consideration, whether something more 
than this is not now become necessary ; whether it 
will not be highly suitable to the dignity, the sanctity 
of this truly respectable and learned body, to lend 
the whole weight of their authority to so good a cause ; 
to assist private instructions by public incitement .; to 
give some signal academical encouragement X.^ this 
branch of knowledge, something that should make the 
cultivation of it not only highly reputable but indis- 
pensably necessary. And, fortunately for us, the 
way is easy and open to the execution of any such 
design. That noble spirit of emulation, which so 
eminently distinguishes the youth of this place, and 
pushes them on to the most wonderful attainments 
in the abstrusest sciences, affords us an opportunity, 
which no other seminary in the world can furnish, 
of raising wdiatever fruit we please from so generous 
a stock. We have only to make revealed religion 
an essential part of uni'oersity learnings and assign to it 
a proper share of the usual honorary rewards, and 
it w^ill soon be pursued with the same ardor of mind 
and vigor of application, as all the other parts of litera- 
ture. The current of study amongst us, which was 
generally thought to run too strongly towards ma- 
thematical subjects, has of late years, by means of 
the excellent institutions in favor of classical learning, 
been, in some degree, diverted into another and more 
useful course. By the method here proposed, (or 
any other of the same tendency which should be judged 
more eligible) there would be one more, and that a 
'Still nobler channel opened to it : and some few of 
those many hours, and those fine talents, which are 
still, I fear, too lavishly wasted here on abstract 



SERMON VIIL 105 

Speculations, in the most precious and improveable 
part of life, would be then more profitably employed 
in learning the rudiments of evangelical truth ; and 
thereby enabling one part of our youth to preserve 
their religious principles uncorrupted by the artifices 
of infidelity, in their future commerce with the world ; 
and the other part to Jbecome powerful defenders and 
successful dispensers of the word of God*. , 

This university had, in the conclusion of the last 
century, the honor of giving birth to a stupendous sys- 
tem of philosophy, erected by its great disciple New- 
ton, on the immoveable basis of experiment and de- 
monstration ; which, by degrees, supplanted and over- 
threw a visionary though ingenious representation of 
nature, drawn by fancy, and supported by conjecture. 
Animated with this success, let it now endeavor to push 
its conquest still further into the regions of ignorance 
and error, to banish from the kingdom the extrava- 
gant conceits of modern scepticism, no less destitute of 
^11 foundation in truth, utility, and sound reasoning, 
than the philosophical romance of Descartes ; and lo 
establish for ever in the minds of the British youth, a 
religion founded not on " the enticing words of man's 
*' wisdom," but on *' demonstration of the spirit and of 
*' the power of God f." 

This will be to promote, in the most effectual man- 
ner the benevolent purposes of those great and pious 
benefactors we are now going to commemorate ; whose 
first object in these magnificent foundations was, un- 

* Since the first publication of this sermon, some advance has been made 
towards the accomplishment of the Author's wishes. Mr. Norris, a 
gentleman of fortune in Norfolk (into whose hands some extracts froin 
this discourse happened to fall) left by his will, a few years ago, a rent- 
charge of a hundred guineas a-year for the establishment and maintenance 
of a Professor in the university of Cambridge, for the sole purpose of read- 
ing lectures to the students there, on the Christian Revelation. To this he 
added twelve pounds a-year for a medal and some books, as a premium for 
the best prose English essay on the same subject. It would be a real conso- 
lation to the friends of religion, and especially to those whose province it is 
to examine candidates for orders, if these well-meant institutions, in con- 
junction with any other subsidiaiy one which the wisdoni of the university- 
might think fit to adept, should in due time effectually answer the great pur- 
poses enlarged upon and recommended in the preceding pa^es. 
f 1 Cor. ii. 4, 5. 

o 



im sERMOM vui. 

doubtcdly, tlie adv^n^em^nt ojF religion ; %\ho, with ^ 
true greatness of 30]ul, carried their views forward into 
^iemttj'i an^ pMiu^y i^.^^t that in these elegant retreats, 
\Yf jilitQuld nojt only lay the founrfatiQns of iminortal 
fanase pn ^arth, but qu^iify oursielves for obtaining^ 
through thp merits of pqr Redeemer, a real and triilj: 
^Igrlpi^ il^piorta^ity in l^mm* 



» 



SERMON IX, 



Deuteronomy v. 12, 

Kee/i the SabSath-daij^ tQ sanctify it, as the Lord thy God hath coi\i' 
manded thee. 

THE appropriation of one day in seven to the pur- 
poses of religion, is a practice peculiar to the 
Jewish and the Christian revelations. And it is a prac- 
tice so full of wisdom, utility, and humanity, that it 
may well be produced as one argun>ent, among many 
others still more convincing, of their divine original. 

By comparing together the primary institution of 
the sabbath, as related in the Book of Genesis, and 
the alterations it afterwards received from our Saviour 
and his apostles, it is evident that the Chistian sabbath 
is to be considered under two distinct points of view. 

First. As a day of rest from labor. 

Secondly. As a day set apart for the public worr 
ship of God. 

I. As a day of rest from labor. 

This rest was, by the Mosaic law^, so rigorously ex- 
acted, that the violation of it was prohibited under no 
less a penalty than that of deaths. Our divine Mas- 
ter, in this as well as in rriany other instances, greatly- 
softened the severity of that law. But yet it was plain- 
ly his intention, that there should be a general cessation 
gf labor on this day. The original reason for thjs part 
of the institution still subsisted in his days, and musi: 

* Exod. XXXV. 2. 



108 SERMON IX. 

subsist till the end of time ; namely, that it might be a 
standing memorial of the great work of creation, from 
which the Almighty Author of it rested^ or ceased, on 
the seventh day, and therefore he blessed and sanctifi- 
ed that day for ever. To this Christ himself added 
another reason, of a similar nature ; having on the 
following day rested from the great work of redemp- 
tion, which he completed by rising from the dead. Our 
abstinence, therefore from the ordinary occupations of 
life on the Lord's Day, is a tacit kind of acknowledg- 
ment that we were created by God, and redeemed by 
Christ, and that we are duly sensible of the duties re- 
sulting from those relations. It appears, moreover, 
that our Lord himself very religiously observed the 
rest of the sabbath ; which he no otherwise interrupt- 
ed than by miracles of mercy and compassion. And , 
we may most certainly conclude, that the very same 
benevolence of disposition which dictated these hu- 
mane exceptions, would prompt him also to improve 
and enforce, bodi by his doctrine and example, the ge- 
neral rule of resting on the seventh day. For never was 
there any injunction so replete with kindness and com- 
passion to the whole human race, especially to the low- 
est and most wretched part of it, as this. There can- 
not be a more pleasing or a more consolatory idea pre- 
sented to the human mind, than that of one unhersal 
pause of labor throughout the whole Christian world at 
the same moment of time ; diffusing rest, comfort, and 
peace through a large part of the habitable globe, and 
affording ease and refreshment, not only to the lowest 
part of our own species, but to our fellow- laborers in 
the brute creation. Even these are enabled to join in 
this silent act of adoration, this mute kind of homage 
to the great Lord of all ; and although they are incapa- 
ble of any sentiment of religion, yet by this means they 
become sharers in the blessings of it. Every man of 
the least sensibility must see, must feel the beauty and 
utility of such an institution as this ; and must see, at 
the same time, the cruelty of invading this most valua- 
ble privilege of the inferior class of mankind, and 



SERMON IX. .' 100 

breaking in upon that sacred repose, which God him- 
self has, in pity to their sufferings, given to those that 
stand most in need of it. It was a point in which it 
highly became the majesty and the goodness of heaven 
itself to interpose. And happy was it for the world 
that it di9 so. For, had man, unfeeling man, been left 
to himself, with no other spur to compassion than na- 
tural instinct, or unassisted reason, there is but too 
much ground to apprehend he would have been deaf to 
the cries of his laboring brethren, would have harassed 
and worn them out with incessant toil ; and when they 
implored, by looks and signs of distress, some little in- 
termission, would perhaps have answ ered them in the 
language of Pharaoh's task-masters, *' Ye are idle, ye 
*' are idle. There shall not aught of your daily tasks 
** be diminished; let more work be laid upon them, 
*' that they may labor therein*." 

That this is no uncandid representation of the natural 
hardness of the human heart, till it is subdued and sof- 
tened by the influences of divine grace, we have but 
too many unanswerable proofs, in the savage treatment 
which the slaves of the antients, even of the most civ- 
ilized and polished antients, met with from their unre- 
lenting masters. To them, alas ! there was no sab- 
bath, no seventh day of rest ! The whole week, the 
whole year, was, in general, with but few exceptions, 
one uninterrupted round of labor, tyranny, and op- 
pression. 

To these inhumanities the merciful temper of our 
religioa has in a great measure put an end ; but there 
are others, arising from the most shameful intrusions 
on the sacred leisure of the sabbath, which it has not 
yet been able to overcome. Look into the streets of 
this great metropolis on the Lord's Day, and see 
whether they convey the idea of a day of rest. Do 
not our servants and our cattle see^ to be almost as 
fully occupied on that day as on any other ? And, as 
if this was not a sufficient infringement of their rights, 
we contrive, by needless entertainments at home, and 

* Exod. V. 9. 11. 17. 



116 SERMON IX. 

needless jbiifriies abroad, which are often by choice and 
tncUnat'tdu reserved for this very day, to take up all the 
little remaining part of their leisure time. A sabbath- 
day's joiirney was, among the Jews, a proverbial ex- 
pression for a very short one. Among us it can have 
no such meaning affixed to it. That day seems to be 
considered by too ihany, as set apart, by divine and 
human smth^ofrity, for the purpose, not of rest, but of 
its direct (>p|30site, the labor of travelling ; thus ad- 
ding diie day more of torment to those generous but 
Wretched aniMals whose services they hire ; and who, 
being geiiefally strained beyond their strength the oth- 
^r six d^ys of the week, have of all creatures under 
iieaven, the best and most equitable claim to suspen- 
sion of labor on the seventh. Considerations such as 
these may perhaps appear to some below the dignity 
of this place, and the solemnity of a Christian assem- 
bly. But benevolence, even to the brute creation, is, 
in its degree, a duty, no less than to our own species ; 
and it is mdhtioned by Solomon as a striking feature iiii 
the character of a righteous man, that *' he is merci- 
" fill even to his beast." He, without whose permisr 
mon *' not a sparrow falls to the ground, and who feed- 
*' eth the youhg ravens that call upon him," will not 
j$ufFer even tlie meanest work of his hands to be treat- 
ed cruelly vt^ith impunity. He is the common father of 
the whole creation. He takes every part of it under 
his protection. He has, in various passages of Scrip- 
ture, expressed his concern even for irrational crea- 
tures, and has declared more especially, in the most 
explicit terms, that the rest of the sabbath was meant 
fof our cattle and our servants, as well as for ourselves. 
II. Biu cessation from labor is not the only duty of 
the Lord's Day. Although it is to be a day of rest, 
yet it is not to be, what too many seem willing to 
make it^ a day of indolence attd inactiiiity. There are 
employments marked out for it of a very important na- 
ture ; aiid of these the first and most essential is, 



SERMON IX. Ill 

TI^E PUBLIC WORSHIP OF GoD. 

It is evicknt, both from reason and Scripture, that 
J3ublic worship is a most useful and indispensable 
duty. It is equally evident, that if this duty is to be 
performed, some fixed and stated time for performing 
it is absolutely necessary : for without this^ it is im- 
possible that any number of persons can ever be col- 
lected together in one place. Now one day in seven, 
scenes to be as proper and convenient a po* tion of our 
time, to be allotted to this use, as any other that can 
be named ** The returns of it are frequent enough 
to keep alive the sense of religion in our hearts, and 
distant enough to leave a very sufficient interval for 
our worldly concerns." 

If then this time was fixed only by the laws^ or even 
by the customs of our country, it would be oxu: duty 
and our wisdom to comply with it. Considering it 
merely as an a?mcnt usage, yet if antiquity can render 
^xi usage venerable, this must be of all others the most 
venerable : for it is coeval with the world itself. But 
it had moreover, as we have seen, the sanction of a 
divine command. From the very beginning of tioae 
God blessed and san^ctified tlie seventh day to tlie pur^ 
poses of religion^. That bij unction was again re- 
peated to»the Jews in the most solemn manner at the 
promulgation of their law. from mount Sinai t,aixl 
once more urged upon them by Moses in the words 
of tlie text ; *' Keep die Sabbath-day, to sanctify it, a$^ 
" the Lord thy God hath commanded thee." 

After our Lord's resurrection, the first day of the 
week was, in memory of that great event, substituted 
in the room of the sevendi ; and from that time to tb^e 
present, that is, for almost eighteen hundred years, 
it Ixas been constantly set apart for the public worship 
of God by the whole Christain world, And^ whatever 
difFcrence of opinion there may have been iix otlier 
respects, in this all parties, sects, and denominations 
of Christians have universally and invariaMy agreed.. 
hy these means it comes to pass, that on this day 

* Gm. ii. 3s t Kxo4us xx. 8, 9, 10, 1,1, 



112 - SERMON IX. 

many millions of people, in almost every region of 
the earth, are at one and the same time engaged in 
prostrating themselves before the throne of grace, 
and offering up their sacrifice of prayer, praise, and 
thanksgiving to the common Lord of all, "in whom 
'* they live, and move, and have their being." 

There is in this view of the Lord's Day something 
so wonderfully awful and magnificent, that one would 
think it almost impossible for any man to resist the 
inclination he must find in himself to join in this 
general assembly of the human race ; " togo with the 
" multitude," as the psalmist expresses it, *' into the 
" house of God," and to take a part in a solemnity so 
striking to the imagination, so suitable to the majesty 
of Heaven, so adapted to the wants, the necessities, 
the infirmities, the obligations and the duties of a 
created and a dependent being. 

That they who avow an open contempt of all reli- 
gion, and j&ro/^^^ to live without God in the world, 
witlwut any belief of his existence, or at least of his 
providential superintendence ; that these, Isay, should 
think it a very needless waste of time to attend divine 
service, can be no wonder. But that any person who 
calls himself a disciple of Christ, or even a believer in 
one Supreme Being, should either totally neglect, or 
but rarely frequent the public w-orship of God on that 
only day which laws, both human and divine, have ap- 
propriated to it, is an instance of contempt for the most 
sacred and most useful institutions, which one should 
hardly be disposed to credit, if constant and melan- 
choly experience did not too clearly prove the reality 
of the fact. We see continOally that the most trivial 
pret^ices of weather, of indisposition, of business, 
of company ; pretences which would not be suiFered 
to interfere one mom.ent with any favorite pursuit, 
or amusement ; are thought reasons of sufficient 
weight to justify us in slighting the express com- 
mands, and deserting the service of our Maker and 
our Redeemer. And it is greatly to be lamented, that 
these neglects have generally been observed to be most 



SERMON XI. 113 

prevalent among those whose education and rank in life 
should have furnished them with the best principles and 
the completest knowledge of their duty ; whose ex- 
ample is most open to observation, and has the great- 
est influence on public manners ; whose large propor- 
tion of worldly blessings demands a more than ordina- 
ry warmth of gratitude to Heaven ; and whose situa- 
tion exposes them to such a variety of trying circum- 
stances as require a more than ordinary share of divine 
assistance*. 

But supposing our attendance on the house of God 
to be such as it ought, there still remains a question of 
no small importance : How are we to employ the re- 
maining part of the Lord's Day ? Are we to dedicate 
it altogether to private devotion and religious medi- 
tation, to seclude ourselves from all society, and to 
assume an aiFected gloom of countenance and severity 
of deportment ; or, may we freely give the reins to 
our inclination for pleasure, and indulge ourselves 
without reserve in all the usual gayeties and amuse- 
ments of the other six days in the week ? Both these 
extremes may be seen among different denominations 
of Christians in foreign kingdoms ; and they have each, 
at different periods, been adopted in this. At the be- 
ginning of the last century, a hook of sports and, pas- 
times ^ov ^nvAviys W2iS set forth, and recommended to 
the good people of* this land by a princef , who has 
been sometimes celebrated for his wisdom, but who in 
this instance certainly was not wise. It gave great, 
and, it must be owned, just offence to the rising sect 
of Puritans ; who, in the next reign, thinking it im- 
possible to recede too much from the former profana- 
tions of the Lord's Dav, ran with too much vehemence 
into the opposite extreme ; and converted the most joy- 
ful of all festivals into a day of silent, sullen, austere 

* It must be acknowledged, mdeed, that the present remarkable thinnesa^. 
of our churches on Sundays, at the East as well as the West end of tlie town 
(more especially at the time oi eveiwig service, which is now but too gene- 
rally given up as quite superfluous) is a proof, that neglect of divine worshij> 
is not confined to the great, but has pervaded almost every clats of people iu 
ihis capital. 

f James the "First. 
P 



114 SERMON IX. 

reserve, and a rigorous abstinence from ever^ 
thing that had the smallest tincture of good humor. 
When all these extravagancies had subsided, and the 
constitution, both civil and ecclesiastical, recovered 
its antient form, the Church of England, with that 
wisdom and moderation which have generally govern- 
ed its decisions, took a middle course with respect to 
the observation of Sunday. In conformity to antient 
statutes and usages, it discouraged all public spectacles 
and diversions, but allowed the more rational pleasures 
of society, and the cheerfulness of friendly intercourse* 
and conversation ; thus drawing the line, with a dis- 
creet and a skilful hand, between the two opposite ex- 
tremes of Pharisaical precisenessy and secular dissipa- 
tion. This prudent medium has now for many year^ 
been preserved among us; but how much longer it will 
be preserved, seems at present no easy matter to say.^ 
The licence of the times, however daring in other re-' 
spects, had hitherto £*[3ared the day consecrated to our 
Maker. But it has now carried its outrages even into 
that once awful- sanctuary. In the very midst of all. 
our dangers and distresses, when it did not seem, to be 
quite the time for setting Heaven at defiance, new in- 
vasions of the Sabbath have sprung up with surprising 
effrontery ; and we are rapidly departing from that sim- 
plicity, sobriety, and purity, in which this holy festival 
has. been delivered down to us by our ancestors. Va- 
rious places of amusement for the Sunday evening, un- 
known to former ages, unknown, I believe, to any oth- 
er Christian country, have been openly announced, and 
to the disgrace of our religion and our laws, have been 
as openly frequented*. 

But how can we wonder at these strange extravagan- 
cies in the lower classes of the people, when they only 

* Since this was written, the wisdom of the legislature has, by an express- 
act of parliament, effectually suppressed these nuisances; some of which,- 
IVom the best and most authentic information, I have reason to believe 
tyere nurseries of popery, infidelity, and vice. It is to be hoped, that the 
same high authority will, at a proper time, proceed to the correction of vari- 
Oius. other abuses, that still infringe, in a flagrant degree, the vest and the de* 
votion of the Lord's Day, but v.?hich it was thought notpnident to include ip: 
tlie above-mentioned ji,ct. 



SERMON IX. U5 

improve a little on the liberties taken by too many of 
their superiors ? If they see magnificent gaming-houses 
erected, and publicly resorted to on the Lord's Day ; 
if they see that pernicious amusement admitted on the 
same day even into private families ; if they see niune- 
rous and splendid assemblies disturbing the repose, 
and violating the sanctity of the Sunday evening, what 
do we think must be the consequence ? Is it not appa- 
rent that they will learn from their betters the fatal les- 
son of insulting the most venerable customs of their 
country, and the most sacred ordinances of Heaven ? 
that they will soon even excel their masters, and carry 
their contempt of decency far beyond the original ex- 
amples of it, which made the first impression on their 
ininds ? 

But apart from these consequences, which are al- 
ready but too visible, it behoves every man, who indul- 
ges himself in any unwarrantable freedoms on the Lord's 
Day, to consider very seriously, *' what spirit he is of,'' 
and what the turn of mind must be from whence such 
conduct springs. Ifj after having spent six days out 
of seven in a constant round of amusements, he cannot 
exist without them even on the seventh, it is high time 
for him to look to his own heart, to check his greedy 
appetite for pleasure, and to put himself, without delay, 
under the direction of higher and better principles. If 
we cannot give up these follies one day in the week, 
how shall we bring ourselves to part with them, as at 
last we must, for ever ? Would it not be infinitely more 
wise and prudent to disentangle ourselves from them 
by degrees, and to try whether it is not possible to ac- 
quire a relish for worthier enjoyments ? To assist us 
in this most useful work, and to put this world, and all 
its frivolous, pursuits, for a few moments, out of our 
thoughts, was one great purpose of the Christian Sabr 
bath ; and it is a purpose for which we of the present 
limes ought to be peculiarly thankful. For a day of 
rest from diversions, is now become as necessary to one 
part of the world, as a day of rest from labor is to the 
-otlier. Let us then give ourselves a little respite, a lit^ 



110 SERMON IX. 

tie refreshment from the fatigue of pleasure. Let us 
not suffer diversions of any kind, much less of a suspi- 
cious and a dangerous kind, to intrude on that small 
portion of time which God hath appropriated to himself. 
The whole of it is barely sufficient for the important 
uses to which it is destined, and to defraud our Maker 
of any considerable part of it is a species of sacrilege. 

But how then (you will say) shall we fill up all those 
dull, tedious hours, that are not spent in the public ser- 
vice of the church ? How shall we prevent that almost 
irresistible languor and heaviness which are so apt to 
take possession of our minds, for want of oUr usual di- 
versions and occupations on this day ? 

Surely it can require no great stretch of invention or 
ingenuity to find out means of employing our vacant 
time, both innocently and agreeably. Besides the soci- 
ety and conversation of our friends, from which wc are 
by no means precluded, might we not for a few hours 
find amusement in contemplating the wisdom, the pow- 
er, the goodness of God in the works of his creation ? 
And might we not draw entertainment, as well as im- 
provement, from some of the sublimer parts of that sa- 
cred volume which contains '^ the words of eternal life," 
and with which therefore it surely concerns us to have 
some little acquaintance ? 

Or, if more active recreations are required, what 
think you of that which you may make as active as you 
please, and which was in fact the supreme delight of our 
divine Master, the recreation of doing good? If, for in- 
stance, it be at all necessary (and when was it ever 
more necessary ?) to instil into the minds of your chil- 
dren sound principles of virtue and religion ; if you 
have any plans of benevolence to form, any acts of kind- 
ness or compassion to execute ; if you have commit- 
ted injuries which ought to be repaired ; if you have 
received injuries which ought to be forgiven ; if friends 
or relations are at variance, whom by a reasonable in- 
terposition it would be easy to reconcile ; if those you 
most esteem and love stand in need of advice, of reproof, 
of assistance, of support ; if any occasions, in short. 



SERMON IX. 117 

j:>rcsent themselves of convincing the unbeliever, of re- 
claiming the sinner, of saving the unexperienced, of 
instructing the ignorant, of encouraging the penitent, 
of soothing the afflicted, of protecting the oppressed ; 
liovv can you more profitably, or more dehghtfully, em- 
ploy } our Sunday leisure, than in the performance of 
such duties as these ; in demonstrating your piety and 
gratitude to God, by diifusingjoy and comfort to every 
part you can reach of that creation, which was the 
work of his hands, and from which he rested on the 
seventh day ? 

Occupations like these are in their own nature cheer- 
ful and enlivening, infinitely more so than that most 
gloomy of all amusements, which is too often substitu- 
ted in their room. They are suited to the character of 
the day. They partake in some measure of its sanctity. 
They are (as all the amusements of such a day ought 
to be) refined, intellectual, spiritual. They fill up with 
propriety and consistency, the intervals of divine wor- 
ship, and in concurrence with that, will help to draw 
oft' our attention a little from the objects that perpetually 
surround us, to wean us gradually and gently from a 
scene which we must some time or other quit, to raise 
our thoughts to higher and nobler contemplations, ^* to 
*' fix our affections on things above," and thus qualify 
us for entering into that heavenly sabbath, that 
EVERLASTING REST, of which the Christian Sabbath 
is in some degree an emblem, and for which it was 
meant to prepare and sanctify our souls. 



SERMON X. 



1 Cor. i. 22, 23, 24. 

*Die Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek after wisdom : but 
we preach Christ crucified ; unto the Jenvs a stumbling-blockf 
and unto the Greeks foolishness ; but unto them tvhich are 
called^ both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and 
the Kviadom of God. 

^NE of the principal causes of the disgust which 
many persons have taken at the Gospel of Christ, 
is the very common, but very unfair practice of judging 
of it by preconcei'ued expectations. They are not content 
to take what God thinks fit to give ; to consider what 
it is that the Christian Revelation really pretends to, 
what the ends are which it has in view, and how those 
pretensions are supported and those ends answered : 
but they sit down and fancy to themselves w^hat kind 
of religion the Almighty ought to propose, and they 
should chuse to receive ; and then, not finding Chris- 
tianity correspond to these imaginations, they are dis- 
appointed and offended, and reject the offer of salva- 
tion made to them, because it is not made precisely in 
their own w^ay. Many instances of this unreasonable 
^nd perverse conduct might be produced from the wri- 
tings both of ancient and modern infidels. But w^e 
need go no farther than the text for a very remarkable 
one ; which will at once confirm the truth of the gen- 
eral position here advanced, and suggest some pscfiii 
and seasonable reflections. 



SERMON X. 11^ 

Botti Jews and Greeks were, it seems, exceedingly 
offended at the cross of Christ, at the doctrine of a 
crucified Saviour, or deliverer of mankind. But what 
were the grounds of this great offence ? The apostle 
plainly tells us. The reason was, *' because the Jews 
" required a sign, andtheGreeks sought after wisdom." 
That is, because they had each of them previously set- 
tled their notions of the manner in which God ought to 
interpose for the reformation and preservation of man- 
kind ; and therefore, whatever contradicted these ideas 
which they had taken up, would appear to them in the 
highest degree improbable and absurd. 

The Jews, it is well known, by taking in too literal 
a sense some high-WTOught figurativ-e descriptions of 
ihe Messiah's spiritual kingdom and ^ory (especially 
a very remarkable one in the prophet Daniel^) and by 
laying more stress on these misinterpreted passages, 
and the groundless traditions of the Pharisees, than on 
the plainer and more intelligible parts of the propheti- 
cal writings, had worked themselves into a firm per-- 
suasion, that the promised Saviour was to be a great 
and powerful temporal prince. They imagined, there- 
fore, that his first appearance on earth w^ould be suita- 
ble to such a character, splendid and magniiicent ; that 
he Vv'ouid by a series of victories, or some decisive 
blow, not only rescue them from the Roman yoke, but 
even extend the bounds and restore the lustre of the 
ancient Jewish kingdom. 

When therefore, as the text expresses it,. " they 
required a sign," they did not m.ean any great miracle 
in general, nor even (as is commonly supposed) any 
kind of sign, widiout distinction, ghenfromhcaxen; but 
tliey meant, probably, tliat precise individual sign 
above-mentioned. The sign of the Mesdah coming 
ivith ^visible glory in the clouds of heaven, with his 
holy angels round him, and ail the other ensigns of 
celestial grandeurf. This illustrious appearance of 
their promised deliverer, they considered as so essen- 

* Dan. vli. 13, 14. 
f See Gci-avd or. the Gonius and Evidenee ot" ChiUtia«it-y, p. irf— 30i. 



J20 SERMON X. 

tial to his character, so indispensable a mark of his 
heavenly original, that they distinguished it by the 
name of the sign of the Sen of Man^ the sign af his 
coming^. And, what is very remarkable, they fre- 
quently demanded this sign, even imniediately after 
our Saviour had worked the most astonishing miracles-j;. 
The reason of this was, because they thought that no 
regard was due even to miracles, or to any other 
evidence, so long as that capital and decisive one, that 
sign from heaven, on which they had set their hearts, 
was wanting. And this accounts also for another 
thing, no less extraordinary, at which some persons 
have been much surprised and offended ; namely, that 
our Saviour constantly refused to give them the sign 
they demanded. If this sign, it is said, would have 
convinced and converted them ; why should they not 
have been gratified with it ? The fact wa;s, that they 
could not possibly be gratified with it ; because it was 
inconsistent with that humble and lowly character, irt 
which for the wisest reasons, God designed, and the 
prophets foretold that the Redeemer of the world 
should actually appear. The sign they wished for^ 
was founded on an expectation of his descending 
visibly from heaven to this lower world with the ut- 
most splendor and magnificence. Whereas it was 
always intended and predicted that he should be born 
of an earthly parent ; should live in an obscure and 
indigent condition of life ; should be despised, re- 
jected, put to death upon the cross, laid in the grave,, 
and rise from it again the third day. And therefore 
his almost constant reply, when they asked a sign, 
was, *' An evil and adulterous generation seeketh after 
*' a sign, and there shall no sign be given it, but the 
-' sign of the prophet JonasJ." By which figurative 
allusion, he meant to signify his own death, burial, and 
resurrection. This was in effect saying to them, 
^ You ask a sign from heaven ; but the only sign, I 



* Matth. xxlv. 3. SO. 

f lb. xvi. 1 ; xii. 38. John ii. 18, 19, 20. 

I Matth. xU. 39 ; xvi. 4. 



SERMON X. 121 

shall vouchsafe to give you will be a sign from the 
earth. Instead of descending from above, as you ex- 
pect, in visible pomp and triumph I shall rise with still 
greater triumph from the grave, after being numbered 
three days with the dead." 

Still however they persisted in demanding their 

favorite sign ; and with this false idea of the Messiah's 

character in their mind, which could never be rooted 

out, it is easy to see how very ill disposed they must 

be to receive and acknowledge a humble, suffering, 

crucified Redeemer. That he was **the son of a car- 

*^ penter ; that he was born at an inn, and laid in a 

'^ manger; that he eat and drank with publicans and 

" sinners, and had not where to lay his head," these 

'Were circumstances of themselves fully sufficient to 

shock their prejudices and disgust their pride. But 

when he was moreover betrayed into the hands of his 

enemies, was mocked, and buffetted and scourged, and 

at length nailed to the cross ; this they must consider 

as the most undeniable proof of his being an impostor, 

and would as soon have believed Barabbas to have 

been their Messiah as him. If, indeed, even then, he 

would have given them what they wanted, a sign from 

heaiien ; if he would have come down from the cross, 

would have made his appearance again, 2isfrom heaven y 

with every external mark of celestial magnificence, and 

restored the kingdom again to Israel, they declared 

that they would still have believed on him. "If he 

*' be THE KING OF ISRAEL," said they, *'Iet him 

** now come down from the cross *." let him openly 

shew his real power, '' and we will believe him." He 

saved others, it is true, he worked many astonishing 

miracles ; but, unless he saved himself too, unless he 

answered their exalted notions of the Messiah, he could 

not possibly be the Son of God. His miracles must 

have been wrought by Beelzebub, and he as litde wov- 

thy of credit as the malefactors who suffered with him. 

Such were the prepossessions which made Chuist 

CRUQiriED A STUMBLING-BLOCK TO THE JEWS. The 
* Matth. xxvil. 4:?. 

Q 



122 SERiMON X. 

prejudices which made him toolishness to xnaS 
GREEKS were of a different nature. The Greeks were 
at that time, when the Gospel was first preached to them, 
as they had been long before, the polite scholars and 
the fashionable philosophers of the age. The great bu- 
siness and delight of these men was to speculate on 
nice metaphysical points, such as, the first principles 
and elements of things, the nature of the gods, the na- 
ture of the human soul, the chief good, the several di- 
visions of virtue, the origin of good and evil, and other 
subjects of the same kind. In these disquisitions, all 
that they aimed at was, not to arrive at certainty (for 
that many of them declared to be absolutely impossible) 
much less to apply the result of their disputations to any 
one useful purpose of life ; but merely to indulge an 
insatiable appetite for something ne^^ to gratify an idle 
and vain curiosity, to amuse themselves and others 
with subtle arguments and acute distinctions, to shew 
their ingenuity in managing a dispute, in proposing cap- 
tious and artful questions, in creating doubts and rai- 
sing difficulties ou the plainest points, in refining and 
explaining away every topic they discussed into per^ 
plexity and confusion, and leaving the mind more dis- 
satisfied and uninformed at the conclusion than it was 
at the beginning of the debate. This they imagined, 
like many other philosophers in our own times, to be 
the very perfection of human wisdom j they thought it 
worthy of the gods themselves ; and that of course, 
whoever came commissioned from Heaven to teach re- 
ligion to mankind, would teach it in all the forms of 
the schools, with the subtlety of a sophist, and the el- 
oquence of a rhetorician. It is easy to conceive, then, 
how exceedingly they must be disappointed, when a 
new religion was proposed to them, consisting chiefly 
of a few plain facts, and practical precepts, calculated, 
not to amuse the fancy, but to reform the heart ; deliv- 
ered without method or ornament, by a set of artless 
unlearned men, who only related what they had seen 
and heai'd, and proved the truth of what they said, i^ot 



SEftMON X. 12^ 

hy fine-spun ar^iments, or florid declamations, but in 
a plain unfashionable kind of way, by sacrificing all 
that was dear to them, and laying down their lives in 
testimony to their doctrines. As far, indeed, as those 
doctrines were new, they would be well received. For 
the Athenians, as we learn from the highest authority, 
** spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell or 
^' to hear some new thing*." When therefore St. 
Paul came to Athens, and preached to that celebrated 
school of philosophy ** Jesus and the resurrection,*' 
they were extremely ready to give him the hearing, and 
brought Inm to the Areopagus, saying, '' May we 
** know what this new doctrine whereof thou speakest 
■''is? for thou bringest certain strange things to our 
** earsf." But when they heard what these strange 
things were, belief in one supreme author and 

QOVE?>.l!lOR OF the WORLD, REPENTANCE, AMEND- 
MENT OF LIFE, CHRIST CRUCIFIED AND RAISED 
FROM THE DEAD, A GENERAL RESURRECTION, A 

FUTURE JUDGMENT, f Strange things indeed to the 
ears of an Athenian) some '' mocked him," laughed 
at the seeming incredibility of what he told them ; oth- 
ers said. " We will hear thee again of this matter J ;" 
not probably with any view of enquiring into the evi- 
dence of facts (the very first and principal enquiry that 
was necessary to be made) but of entering into long 
and learned disquisitions on the nature and the fitness 
of the truths in which they were instructed. They ex- 
pected to have all the difficulties relating to Jesus and 
THE RESURRECTION, clcared up to them in the 
most pleasing and satisfactory manner, to have all the 
reasons on which God acted, laid open before th^m, 
and all his proceedings with mankind justified on the 
principles of human wisdom. Till this were done the 
doctrine of CHRIST crucified would always appear 
^' foolishness to the Greeks." The pride of philoso- 
phy, and the self-sufficiency of learning, would never 
submit to believe that a man who suitered like a coni.- 

* Acts xvli. 21. t lb. xv^i. 19, 20. 

I Acts xvii. 52. 



124 SERMON X. 

mon malefactor, could be a teacher sent from God ; 
that the death of so excellent and innocent a person 
could be of any benefit to mankind ; that God would 
make use of means to accomplish his ends, so totally 
different from those which a Greek philosopher would 
have fixed on ; and that no better and more credible 
method of instructing and saving the world could have 
occurred to Infinite Wisdom. The seeming absur- 
dity of all this would shock the Pagan, no less than the 
ignominy of it did the sons of Abraham. Show us 
the meaning and propriety of this plan, said the Greek : 
show us the dignity and splendor of it, said the Jew : 
prove to us, said the one, the consistency of these 
doctrines with the magnificent descriptions of the Mes- 
siah, by the prophets ; reconcile it, said the other, to 
the principles of reason and common sense. 

And in what manner now does St. Paul treat these 
objections to the doctrine of the cross ?' Does he go 
about to accommodate and bring it down to the temper 
of his opponents ? Does he endeavor to palliate and 
soften, to conceal or pass slightly over, to explain away 
or apologize for, this offensive article ? No such 
matter. Notwithstanding these well known prejudices 
against a crucified Redeemer, we find him constantly 
and boldly, and in the most express terms, asserting 
that the Saviour whom he preached, whose disciple he 
was, and on whom he wished all mankind to believe, 
was put to death upon the cross, and gave himself a 
sacrifice for the sins of the whole world. He well 
knew how shocking this would sound to some, and 
how absurd to others ; but he persisted in his course ; 
he felt the truth and importance of the fact ; and regard- 
less of consequences, he declared it every where aloud 
and left it to work its own way. ** I am not ashamed," 
says he^'^' of the Gospel of Christ ; for it is the power 
" of God unto salvation, to every one that believeth, 
*' to the Jew first, and also to the Greek*." " God 
*' forbid that I should glory," says he, in another place, 
** save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Chirst, by whom 

* Rom. i. 16. 



SERMON X. 125 

•• the world is crucified uiito me, and I unto the world*." 
And it is evidently in the same strain of triumph 
and exultation, that he speaks of this doctrine in the 
text. *' The Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek 
'' after wisdom ; but we " (regardless of both) ** preach 
" Christ CRicified, to the Jews a stumbling-block, and 
*' to the Greeks foolishness ; but unto them which are 
*' called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of 
** God, and the wisdom of God." 

The inferences I mean to draw from the preceding 
observations, are these two that follow : 

I. The first is, that the friends of Revelation have 
no need to be disturbed or alarmed at a circumstance 
which has been sometimes dwelt upon with expres- 
sions of surprize and concern ; namely, that all those 
virtuous and learned philosophers, who lived in the 
first ages of the Gospel, and ** adorned the times in 
which they flourished, such as Seneca, the elder and 
the younger Pliny, Tacitus, Plutarch, Galen, Epictetus 
and Marcus Antonius, either overlooked or rejected 
the evidences of the Gospel ; and that their language or 
their silence equally discovered their contempt for the 
Christians, who had in their time diffused themselves 
over the Roman Empire f." ~^ 

The simple fact, that these eminent men did not em- 
brace Christianity, is admitted ; and concerned, undoubt- 
edly, every compassionate mind must be at so unhappy 
an instance of perseverance in error ; but whoever re- 
flects on what has been said above, will not be much 
surprized, that Christ crucified should be fool- 
ishness to the Roman sage as well as to the Greek, 
That same philosophy which, we are told, *' had puri- 
fied their minds from the prejudices of superstition," 
had substituted in their room certain otber prejudices, 
that would effectually prevent them from embracing the 
Gospel, if ever they condescended to bestow a single 
thought upon it, or to make the least enquiry into it ; 



* Gal. vi. 14 
+ See the History cf the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. 
p. 516. 



126 SERMON X. 

tvbich is far from being certain. Full of system and 
of science, of the ail-sufficiency of reason, the dignity 
•of human nature, and the absolute perfection of Stoi- 
cal wisdom and virtue, they must needs regard with 
supercilious contempt an unsystematical and unscienti- 
iical religion, first promulged in an unpolished and un- 
lettered corner of the world, by the son of a carpenter, 
who never studied at Athens or at Rome : preached 
afterwards by illiterate fishermen and mechanics, and 
received with eagerness by the illiterate populace. 
They would never endure a religion that rejected the aid 
of eloquence and learning, in the pursuit of which they 
liad spent their lives ; a religion that laid open the weak- 
ness and depravity of the human heart, and the insuffi- 
ciency of our own powers, either to lead us to a just 
knowledge of our duty, or support us in the due per- 
formance of it, without supernatural aid; which incul- 
cated the necessity of a mediator, a redeemer, a sancti- 
fier, and required the very unphilosophical virtues of 
ineekness, humility, contrition, self-abasement, self-de- 
nial, renovation of heart and reformation of life ; which 
taught the doctrines of a resurrection from the grave, 
and an eternal existence in another world, doctrines that 
appeared to them not only perfectly ridiculous, but even 
impossible^', which '' chose the foolish things of the 
*' world to confound the ivise,^^ (a title peculiarly arro- 
gated by the Stoics) '' and the weak things of the world 
*' to confound the things that are mighty f ; casting 
** down imaginations, and every high thing that exal- 
** teth itself against the knowledge of God, and bring- 
" inginto captivity every thought to the obedience of 
"** Christ J." These were doctrines to which not even 
a Stoical slavCy much less a Stoical Emperor, could 
€ver submit to listen v/ith any degi*ee of patience. 
Where then can be the wonder, that, on minds labor- 
ing under such strong prepossessions as these, neither 
the internal excellence, nor the external proofs, of the 
Christian Revelation, could ever make the smallest 
impression ? 

* Acts xvii. .32. Plin. Nat. Hist, ii, T- f 1 Cor. i. 2r. i 2 Cor. x. $, 



SERMON X. 121 

il. The next inference I would offer to youv con- 
i^lderation is, that although the doctrine of Christ cm- 
cijied is one of those which are the most offensive to 
the philosophers and dispnters of this world, yet we 
should not be in the least dismayed by their opposition 
to it ; nor remit an}' thing of our diligence and earnest- 
ness in asserting the truth, and insisting on the im- 
portance of this fundamental article of our faith. We 
have seen that at the very first publication of the Gos- 
pel, this doctrine gave the utmost scandal to the pride 
of the Jew, and the wisdom of the Greek, We have 
seen too what litde regard was paid to them by the 
great apostle of the Gentiles. The same prejudices do 
in some measure still subsist ; and deserve to meet 
with the same treatment. There are Jews and Greeks 
still to be found in every Christian countiy. Wnbeiicu- 
ers, I mean, who in their way of thinking and reason- 
ing on the subject of Revelation resemble both ; who 
are, like the former, shocked at the seeming ignomi- 
ny of the cross, and, like the latter, disgusted with 
the absurdity of supposing, that the sufferings and the 
death of an unoffending individual, and of one too 
that pretended to be nothing less than the Son of God, 
could in any way contribute to the salvation of a guilty" 
world. It concerns not us to satisfy these fastidious 
reasoners. The only proper answer to them is, that 
our faith "does not stand (and was not designed to 
*' stand) in the wisdom of men, but in the power of 
*' God^." All that luf have to do, is to content our- 
selves ^vith facts, and to receive with thankfulness the 
doctrine of Redemption, as we find it delivered in the 
plain, and express, and emphatical words of Scrip- 
lure. We may safely trust ourselves in the hands of 
God, and rely on bis wisdom for the best methods of 
redeeming us. His dealings with mankind are truly 
great and wise, but he does not conduct himself on 
the principles of ivorldly grandeur, or worldly wisdom. 
On the contrary, it is plainly his intention, in this and 
a thousand other instances, to humble, and mortify. 

* 1 Cor, ii. 5. 



128 SERMON X. 

I 

and confound them both. We have, therefore, no 
reason to be afraid of either, *' for the foolishness of 
*^ God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is 
** stronger than men^." 

Artful and ingenious cavillers will attempt to lead us 
into long disquisitions and subtle speculations on the 
subject. They will start innumerable difficulties, pro- 
pose ensnaring questions, and urge us with a variety 
of seeming absurdities. But, unmoved by all their 
artifices, let us hold fast the profession of our faith, 
without wavering, and without philosophizing. Unless 
we are admitted into the counsels of God, it is impos- 
sible for us to comprehend all the reasons which indu- 
ced him to prefer that particular method of redeeming 
us which he has chosen. But yet what we may un- 
derstand of it is sufficient to convince us, that it is ad- 
mirably well calculated for the purposes which it seems 
designed to answer ; and that although the doctrine of 
the cross is ^* to them that perish, foolishness," *^ yet 
" to them that are called," that is, to all who are sin- 
cerely disposed to embrace the offers of divine mercy 
made to them in the Gospel, it is, as the text affirms it 
to be, " Christ the power of god, and the 
*' WISDOM OF GOD." To cntcr luto tlic proof of this 
at large would require a volume. But the slightest 
and most superficial view of the subject will be suffi- 
cient to show, what great, and important, and seem- 
ingly opposite ends were answered by the death of 
Christ upon the cross. 

By this extraordinary event, the power of death 
itself, and the dominion of Satan, ^' the prince of this 
world," were, as the Scriptures inform us, at once 
destroyedf. It gave occasion to that most astonish- 
ing miracle, the resurrection of our Lord from the 
dead. It w^as a seal and confirmation of the new 
covenant of mercy between God and man, as covenants 
used anciently to be confirmed by sacrifices. It was 
a completion of the ancient prophecies concerning our 
Saviour, and reconciled that apparent contradiction 

* 1 Cor. i. 25. ' t 2 Tim. i. 10. Heb, ii. 14. 



SERMON X. 129 

between the description of his temporal sufferings and 
his spiritual glories, which so much perplexed and 
confounded the Jews. It taught mankind that hardest 
of all lessons (a lesson which is, God knows, but too 
necessary for every human being in his passage 
through the world) to bear the cruellest indignities^ 
the heaviest afflictions, and the acutest sufferings, with 
composure, patience, meekness, and resignation to 
the will of Heaven. It effected, what of all other 
things seemed the most difficult, the salvation of re- 
penting sinners, without either punishing them, or 
weakening the authority of God's moral government ; 
and, while it afforded assurance of pardon for past of- 
fences, gave no encouragement to future transgres- 
sions. And what completes the whole is, that this 
doctrine of the cross, which by the proud reasoners of 
that age was called foolishness, did notwithstanding 
make its way in the world with incredible rapidity, 
and produced such a reformation in the hearts and 
lives of men, as all the eloquence and subtilty of the 
greatest philosophers could never accomplish. When 
we reflect on these things, we must surely allow, 
that although there may be many things in the doc- 
trine of redemption to us inexplicable, yet it appears 
plainly, even from our imperfect conceptions of it, 
to have been a most eminent proof both of the wisdom 
«nd the power of God. 

The more we examine into it, the more we shall 
be convinced of this great truth. But as there is now 
no time for any further enquiries of this nature, I shall 
dismiss the subject with this one observation — That 
there is so far from being any thing in the doctrine of 
the cross that ought to shock our understandings, or 
stagger our faith, that, on the contrary, it affords us the 
strongest evidences of the truth of our Saviour's pre- 
tensions. He well knew that the Jews expected in their 
Messiah a splendid victorious deliverer, and that the 
heathens loved to be amused with philosophical dis- 
putes and oratorical harangues. Had he therefore been 
an impostor, he would most certainly liave accommo- 

R 



136 SERMON X. 

dated hk appearance and his doctrines to these expecf ^- 
tions. But by teaching, living, siiffering, and dying, 
in direct contradiction to these deep-rooted preposses- 
siorns, he plainly shewed that he depended, not on the 
favor of man, but on the force of truth, and the power 
of God only, fc the success of his mission. In the 
same manner^ after his ascension, when the A}!>ostle*j 
fbund that the doctrine of C/6m/ crucified gscv^ the ut- 
most ofence ta their hearers, was to the '* Jews a stum^ 
*' bliiEig- block, and to the Greeks; foolishness ;" haef 
fey acted on the principles of mere worldly policy, they 
would quickly have chan^ged their tone, would have 
dissembled, or softe'.ned; or concealed this obnoxious^ 
article. They would have made use of art and manage- 
Hient, similar, perhaps, to that which the Jesuits in 
China are said to have adopted. It is^ a charge brought 
against those missionaries by some writers, and believed 
by others, of considerable authority y that, finding the 
people of that country exceedingly scandalized at the 
doctrine of i: crucified Redeemer, they thought it pru- 
dent to deny that Christ was ever crucified. They afr 
firmed, that it was nothing more than a calumny Invent- 
ed by the Jews, to throw a disgrace on Christianity. 
And what did they gain by this ingenious piece of craft? 
Did they secure a better reception for the Gospel, and 
cstiablish themselves more firmly in the good opinion of 
mankind? Alas ! Christianity no longer exists in Chi- 
na,, and they themselves no longer exist as a society. 
Such are the effects of worldly policy, and worldly wis- 
dom. And had the Apostles acted on the same princi- 
ples, they would have met with the same success. But 
ibey pursued the maxims of " that wisdom which is 
*' from above.'* Undismayed by the offence taken at 
the doctrine of the cross, they continued to preach 
Christ crucified. They disdained all the little tempori- 
sing arts of accommodation, all unworthy compliances 
wi& the prejudices of mankind. They loudly declared 
to the whole world that they believed the doctrine of 
the cross to be a divine truth, and that they thought it 
their bounden duty to persist in preaching it, without 



SERMON X. 131 

lear, -without disguise, and Avithout reserve. Tliey 
were persuaded that God would some way or other take 
care to prosper his own work, and that, notwithstand- 
ing all opposition to the contrary, '' their labors should 
*^ not be in vain in the Lord." The event showed that 
their reasoning was just, and that they judged right in 
obeying God, rather than humoring the prejudice $ and 
caprices of men. The successful and triumphant man- 
ner in which the Gospel made its way, notwithstanding 
it went bearing the cross of its divine Author, and had 
all the power, and wealth, and eloquence of the world 
to oppose it, was an irresistible proof, 'that it was the 
design of Providence, not *' by the enticing words of 
man's wisdom, but by demonstration of the Spirit, and 
of power, to save them that believe ; and, by what was 
called the foolishness of the cross ; to destroy the wisdom 
of the wise, and bring to nothing the understanding of 
die prudent*." 

* 1 Cor. ii. 4. and i. 19. 



SERMON XI. 



Je R E M I A H X viii. Part of the 1 1th Verse. 

T/iiLS saith the Lord ; behold I frame evil against you. Return ye 
now every one from his evil nvay^ and make your ivays and your 
doings good. 

E are now once more assembled together, to 
humble ourselves before Almighty God* : and, 
since we first met here for that purpose, a most awful 
and alarming change has taken place in the situation of 
our affairs. A few successes in the beginning have 
been followed by a series of misfortunes. Our dangers 
and distresses have multiplied on every side. All our 
efforts to extricate ourselves from the difficulties with 
which we are surrounded, have proved ineffectual. x\nd 
the prospect before us is upon the whole sufficiently 
dark and uncomfortable. 

Let us turn our eyes from it to another object ; to 
ourselves I mean, to our own conduct. Will that af- 
ford us any consolation ? " When the judgments of 
" the Lord are in the earth," we are told that ^' the 
*' inhabitants of the world will learn righteousnessf." 
Have those judgments which now press so heavy upon 
us, taught us this most useful lesson ? In proportion as 
our calamities have multiplied, has the warmth of our 
piety encreased, and our sins and our follies melted 
away before it ? Twice already have we, in this place, 
and on this very occasion, addressed ourselves to the 
Throne of Grace ; have, with every appearance of sor- 

* On the general fast in 177'^. t Isaiah xxvi. 9. 



SERMON XI. 133 

row and contrition, confessed our sins, and acknow- 
ledged that they have most deservedly brought down 
upon us the heaviest marks of God's displeasure. We 
have entreated pardon, we have besought compassion, 
^VG have implored assistance and protection ; and in re- 
turn have, in the most solemn manner, vowed repent- 
ance and reformation. Have that repentance and refor- 
mation followed ? Has one single article of luxury been 
retrenched (retrenched, I mean, from principle) one fa- 
vorite vice renounced, one place of amusement, one 
school of debauchery or of gaming, shut up ? Do we 
keep a stricter guard upon all our irregular appetites and 
desires, and restrain them within the bounds of tempe- 
rance, decency, and duty ? Are the obligations of the 
nuptial vow more faithfully observed, and fewer appli- 
cations made to the legislature for the dissolution of that 
sacred bond ? Is there a more plain and marked differ- 
ence in our behavior towards the virtuous and the pro- 
fligate ; and have we set ourselves with greater earnest- 
ness to repress the bold effrontery of vice, by treating 
it, wherever it is found, with the indignation and con- 
tempt which it deserves ? x\re we become in any de- 
gree more religious, more devout, more disengaged 
from this world, more intent upon the next ? Are our 
hearts touched with a livelier apprehension of heavenly 
things, with warmer sentiments of love and reverence 
for our Maker ; and do we demonstrate the sincerity of 
that love, by a more exact obedience to his commands, 
and a more serious regard to that sacred day, which is 
peculiarly dedicated to his service ? Happy would it 
be for every one of us, could these questions be answer- 
ed truly in the affirmative. But if they cannot, for 
what purpose have we again resorted to this solemnity ? 
Do we think that the abstinence, the sorrow, or the 
supplications of a day^ will avail us ? In a country so 
enlightened as this is, it is impossible that any one can 
deceive himself with such imaginations as these. If wc 
come here to say a form of prayer for mere form's sake ; 
if our devotion is put on for the occasion ; and put off 
the moment we leave this place ; if we are serious for 



134 SERMON XL 

a few hours once in a year, and as dissipated as ever aij 
tlie rest of our lives ; such annual shows of piety, such 
periodical fita of devotion, instead of being a humilia- 
tion before God, are a mockery and insult upon him ; 
and our very prayers will be among the sins for which, 
we ought to beg forgiveness. The prayers to which he 
listens, are those only that spring from a broken and a 
contrite heart : the sorrow that he accepts, is that only 
which worketh repentance: the abstinence which he 
requires, is abstinence from sin. Unless we renounce 
each of us our own peculiar wickedness, our profes- 
sions here do nothing : they do worse than nothing j 
they add hypocrisy to all our other sins. '^ This peo^ 
*' pie," says God on a similar occasion, '* draw near 
^' to me with their mouth, and with their lips do honor 
'• me, but have removed their heart far from me : and 
*' their fear towards me is taught by the precept of men. 
** Their goodness is as a morning cloud, and as the 
", early dew it goeth away^ When they fast, I Vv^ill not 
*' hear their cry, and when they offer an oblation, I will 
'' not accept them*. Because I have called, and ye 
*' reiused, I have stretched out my hand, and no man 
*' regarded ; but ye have set at nought my counsel, and 
*' would none of my reproof; I also will kiugh at your 
^' calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh. When 
*' your fear cometh as a desolation, and your destruc* 
*^ tion cometh as a whirlwind, when distress and an^ 
*•• guish cometh upon you ; then shall they call upon 
*' me, but I will not answer, they shall seek me early, 
** but they shall not find me ; for that they hated know» 
*' ledge, and did not chuse the fear of the Lord.''f 

AU this, I am aware, when applied to ourselves, will 
be considered by many as nothing more than the usual 
language of the pulpit ; as a little pious declamation, 
necessary to be used on such occasions as this, but 
meaning nothing, and calculated only to strike super- 
stitious minds, which see divine judgments in every 
common occurrence of life* 

» Is«. xxix. 13. Hos, vi. 41. jer. xiv. 12. f Frcv. i. 24, 2$, 2€, 27, 2% ^^ 



SERMON XL 135 

. This is neither the time nor the place for entering in- 
to any controversy on such subjects. We are come 
here, I apprehend, not to dispute God's mora! gov- 
ernment of the world, but to acknowledge it. They 
wha do wot acknowledge it, have no concern liere. 
•Yet even these, when they happen to reflect a little se- 
yiousfy on what ^ve were a very few years ago, and 
what we ik)w are ; when they consider the means by 
which this sudden and surprising revolution has been 
brought about ; when they look back to the origin, 
and trace the whole progress, of that unhappy contest, 
in which we have been so long engaged, find them- 
selves obliged to own, that there is something very ex- 
traordinary in it ; that it has in many instances gone 
far out of the usual track of human affairs ; that the 
causes generally assigned', are totally inadequate to- the 
eifeefes produced ; and that it is altogether one of the 
most amazing scenes that v/as ever presented to the ob- 
servation of mankind. They allow it is impossible to 
account in any common way, for every thing that has 
happened in the various stages of it ; and talk much 
©f accident, ilKfortune, and a certain strange fatility 
(as tiiey call it) which seems to attend even our best- 
concerted measures. Let those who can, digest such 
reasoning as this, and disguise their ignorance of the 
truth, or their unwillingness to own it, under the shel- 
ter of unmeaning names, and imaginary beings of their 
own Great ioiv. But let us, who are, I trust, a little 
better informed, confess, what it is in vain to deny, 
rbat the hand of God is upon its ; that we wanted hum- 
bling, and have been most severely humbled. The 
successes of the last war * were too great for our feeble 
virtue to bear. The immense wealth that they poured 
in upon us from every quarter of the globe, bore down 
before it every barrier of morality and religion, and 
produced a scene of wanton extravagance and wild ex- 
cess, which called loudly for some signal check ; and 
that check it has now received. It would be the ex- 
tremity of blindness not to see, in those calamities that 

* That which wai ccnckided b/ the peace of I'C*. 



136 SERMON XL 

have befallen us, the workings of that over-rulhig 
power, ** which chuses the foolish things of the world 
*' to confound the wise, and the weak things of the 
** world to confound the things that are mighty ; that 
** no flesh should glory in his presence*." It is plain- 
ly the voice of God that speaks to us, in the sublime 
and tremendous language of Scripture ; *' Hear this, 
" thou that art full of stirs, a tumultuous city, a joyous 
" city; thou that art given to pleasures, that dwellest 
" carelessly, and say est in thine heart, I am, and none 
** else beside me ; Though thou exalt thyself as the 
** eagle, and though thou set thy nest among the stars, 
'' thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord. Can 
** thy heart endure, or can thy hands be strong, in the 
" days that I shall deal with thee ? I thd Lord have 
*' spoken it, and will do it* I will mingle a perversa 
** SPIRIT in the midst of thee, I will cause thee 

" TO ERR IN EVERY WORKf." 

Whether we have not thus erred, I leave you to 
judge ; and if our errors are here referred to their 
right source, we know the rem.edy. It is, God be 
thanked, in our own hands : it is what this day's so- 
lemnity was meant to remind us of; it is what the text 
itself very distinctly points out to us. ** Return ye 
*' now every one from his evil way, and make your 
*' ways and your doings good." Listen then, I be- 
seech you, to this most salutary advice, and " humble 
** yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that he 
" may exalt you in due time J." 

But is any one then (we shall be asked) so weak as 
to imagine, that immediate reformation will be follow- 
ed by an immediate declaration of Heaven in our favdr^ 
and that the mornent we become religious and virtu- 
ous, we shall be secured from danger, and rewarded 
with success ? The best, indeed the only proper 
answer to such a question as this, is — make the tri- 
al. It may be made without either expense or 

* 1 Cor. i. 2r, 29. 

f Isaiah xxii. 2 ; xlvii. 8. Obad. 4. Ezek. xxii. 14. Isaiah xix. 14- 

+ 1 Pet. V. 6. 



SERMON XL 137 

hazard ; and surely, in our present situation, every 
thing that affords the least shadow of relief, deserves 
our notice. Expedient after expedient has been tried, 
and failed. Above all things, we have tried what 
iRRELiGioN will do for US ; and we have no reason, I 
think, to be proud of the experiment. It is then high 
time, surely, to discard a physician that has done us 
so little good, to make a change in our medicines, and 
put ourselves under a different regimen. And what 
other regimen can we adopt but that which is recom^ 
mended to us by the great physician of our souls ? It 
is RELIGION, '* pure undefiled religion," that will 
strike at the root of our disorder, and nothing else can. 
To see its influence suddenly and universally restored, 
is more, perhaps, than we can expect. As the depra- 
vation of our manners, and the decay of vital piety 
amongst us, has been a gradual work, the recovery of 
them must be so too. But let every one begin to do 
something towards it ; let all parties and denomina- 
tions of men, instead of inveighing against each other, 
without mercy and without end, reform themselves ; 
and the restitution of religious sentiment, and virtuous 
practice will not be so difficult ' an achievement as is 
imagined. It behoves us, in the first place, the minis- 
ters of the Gospel, from the highest to the lowest, to 
redouble our attention to every branch of our sacred 
functions, and to take the lead, as we are bound to do, 
in the great work of reformation. As an indespensa- 
ble requisite towards it, let us be careful to impress 
deeply both upon our own minds and those of our 
hearers, the absolute necessity of faith in Christ, of 
fervent love towards God, of internal sanctification by 
his Spirit; and on this foundation, the only solid and 
substantial one that can be laid, let us erect the super- 
structure of a holy, religious^ Christian life. Let 
those who direct our public measures remember, that 
their success must, in a great degree, depend on the 
purity and integrity, not only of their political, but of 
their moral and religious conduct ; and that " except 

S 



i38 SERMON XI 

'^ the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh buf 
*' in vain*." If therefore they leave the Supreme 
Governor of the world out of their counsels, and form 
plans independent of him and his providence, there is 
but too much reason to fear, that all the efforts of hu- 
man wisdom and power, the most vigorous exertions 
of national strength, the best appointed fleets and ar- 
mies, will avail them nothing; for " the battle is not 
*' their's, but God^sf." Let their opponents, on the 
other hand, be no less attentive to the regulation of 
their own hearts, than to the conduct of those who gov- 
ern ; and contend with them not merely for the vain 
distinctions of rank, or wealth, or power, but for that 
noblest object of human ambition, pre-eminence in 
\irtue. To all this, let those who are distinguished 
by their birth and fortune, add the weight, the almost 
irresistible weight, of their example ; and manifest 
their public spirit in tlie most useful way they can, by 
letting the light of their truly illustrious conduct " shine 
" before men," and by being models of every thing 
that is great and good. Let parents, in fine, while they 
are so anxious to embellish the manners, and improve 
the understandings, of their children, pay a little more 
attention than they have hitherto done, to the cultiva- 
tion of their liearts. From their infancy to their man- 
hood, let them be brought up " in the nurture and ad- 
*' monition of the Lord J." Let those grand corrup- 
ters oftheir unguarded innocence and simplicity, licen- 
tious NOVELS, licentious histories, and licentious 
systems of philosophy, which (not to mention thosa^ 
of our own growth) have constituted a large and most 
pernicious branch of our commerce with a neighboring 
kingdom ; let these, I say-, be for ever banished from 
the hands of our youth, and in their room, let that long- 
neglected, and almost forgotten thing, REVEALED RE- 
LIGION, make a fundamental part of their education. 
Let them not be left (as is too much, God knows, the 
case) to pick it up themselves, as well as they can, from 

* Psalm esxvii. 1. f 2 Chron. kx. IS. \ Eph. vi. 4. 



SERMON XL 139 

casual information, or a few superficial unconnected in- 
structions ; but let it be taught them systematically and 
methodically ; let the first rudiments of it be instilled 
as early and as carefully into their minds, as those of 
jevery other science ; let its evidences and its doctrines 
be gradually explained to them, in the several semina- 
ries of learning through which they successively pass, 
in proportion as their judgments ripen, and their un- 
derstandings unfold themselves. Let them, in short, 
be made not only great scholars, and accomplished gen- 
tlemen, but, what is of infinitely more importance, both 
to themselves and to the public, honest men, and sin- 
cere Christians. 

By means such as these, together with our most ear- 
nest prayers for the assistance of Divine Grace to co- 
operate with our own endeavors, there is little doubt 
but a great and a blessed change may in time be 
brought about, in the manners even of the present ge- 
neration, and still more of the rising one. And when 
once the sense of religion is effectually awakened in our 
souls, we have every reason in the world to expect the 
happiest consequences from it. 

The declarations of Scripture on this head are pe- 
remptory and decisive. *' At what instant," (says 
God) '' I shall speak concerning a nation, und concern- 
** ing a kingdom, to pluck up aixl to pull down, and 
•** to destroy it, if that nation, against whom I have 
*' pronounced, turn from their evil, I will repent of the 
" evil which 1 thought to do unto them^.." But, be- 
sides the reviving hopes which these promises may 
Xveli inspire, there are other very important advant^iges 
that will naturally and spontaneously flow from a sincere 
belief in the doctrines,, and a general obedience to the 
Jaws, of the Gospel. 

I. In the first place, true Christianity will produce 
TRUE PATRIOTISM AND PUBLIC SPIRIT. By its Com- 
manding influence over the soul, *' it will keep under, 
'*' and bring into subjection f," all those irregular pas- 

* Jer. xviii. T, 8. f X Cor. ix. ST. 



140 SERMON XI. 

sions which render men rapacious, sordid, selfish, and 
corrupt, indifferent and inattentive to the public, devo- 
ted solely to the pursuit of some favorite object, or the 
gratification of some implacable resentment, to which 
they are at any time ready to prostitute their conscien- 
ces, and sacrifice the true interest of their country^ 
From all these vile impediments to the discharge of our 
duty, Christianity sets us free, and substitutes in their 
room, the noblest and most generous sentiments. It 
gives that dignity and elevation of soul, which is supe- 
rior to every undue influence, either of popularity or of 
power. It lays down, as the foundation of all disinter- 
ested conduct, that great evangelical virtue, self-de- 
nial ; it teaches us to deny, to renounce ourselves ; 
to throw entirely out of our thoughts, our own preju- 
dices, interests, and passions; and in every public 
question, to see nothing, to regard nothing, but the real 
welfare of our country, and that plain line of duty, which 
no honest man can mistake. To this it adds unbound^ 
ed love for all, but especially *' the brotherhood'* ;'* 
that is, the community of which we are members. It 
extends our prospect beyond the present scene of things,, 
and sets before us the recompences of a future life ; 
which, as they make us richer^ enable us to be more 
generous, than other men. They whose views are whol- 
ly centered in this world, will too often prefer the emo- 
luments of it to every other consideration ; but they 
who look towards an inheritance in another state of ex- 
istence, can afford to give tip to the general welfare, a 
few advantages in this. 

II. When once we have thoroughly imbibed the true 
spirit and temper of the Gospel, it will soon produce 
what is essential to our preservation, unanimity ; will 
compose all those unhappy dissensions which have so 
long torn the state in pieces ; which have been one 
principal cause of our present evils ; and,' if not timdy 
extinguished, or at least greatly mitigated, will proba^ 
biy lead (as in all great empires they have universally 

* 5 Pet. u. ir 



SERMON XL 141 

led) to final ruin. Now the source of this dreadful mis- 
chief lies where few seem to suspect, in the want of 
RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE. Had not all sidcs departed, 
in a greater or less degree, from those heavenly precepts 
of gentleness, humility, meekness, placability, brother- 
ly kindness, moderation, equity, and integrity, which 
the Gospel prescribes, it is utterly impossible that our 
divisions could have arisen to their present alarming 
height. But the misfortune is, we are apt to think our- 
selves dispensed with, in matters of state, from all those 
rules of morality, which, in every other case, we deem 
it our duty to observe ; and, what is quite astonishing 
and unaccountable, the very same persons, who in pri- 
vate life are considerate, reasonable, impartial, good- 
natured, and humane, will, in public affairs, be impetu- 
ous, vehement, acrimonious, censorious, ungenerous, 
and unjust. On what grounds they establish this strange 
distinction, and why they conceive all the obligations 
of Religion to hold good in the one case, and entirely 
to vanish in the other, is to me, I own, utterly incom- 
prehensible. The Gospel, I am sure, knows nothing 
of any such exceptions as these. It lays down the same 
rules of behavior for all men, in all relations, and cir- 
cumstances of life ; and grants no dispensation, in any 
one supposable instance, from the eternal and invariable 
laws of evangelical rectitude. It is C h a r i x y , in short, 
true Christian Charity, diffusing itself through our 
whole conduct, public as well as private, that can alone 
restore harmony and union to this distracted kingdom. 
Let her mild conciliating voice be once heard and at- 
tended to by all ranks of men, and she will say to their 
ruffled passions, as our Saviour did to the troubled 
waves, '' Peace, be still :" and the consequence will 
be the same : '' there will be a great calm*^." 

Lastly, A consciousness of having discharged our 
duty, of being at peace with God, and of living under 
his gracious superintendence, will give us a spirit, a 

FIRMNESS, AND INTREPIDITY OF SOUL, which no- 
thing else can inspire. 

* Mark Iv. 39. 



U% SERMON XL 

Valor indeed, it has been said, is no Christian vir- 
^tue ; and it is very true ; for, considered simply in it- 
self, it is no virtue at all. It is a mere personal qual- 
ity, depending principally on constitution and natural 
temperament, but improved by education, discipline, 
and habit ; and can be no otherwise moral or immoral, 
than as it is well or ill directed. But supposing all 
other circumstances equal, the sincere Christian will 
have many incitements to face danger with a steady 
countenance, which the irreligious cannot have. Un- 
der the defence of the Most High, he has less cause to 
fear the worst, and more reason to hope the best, than 
those that live without God in the world. '' The wick- 
*' ed therefore flee when no man pursueth, but the 
" righteous are bold as a lion*." Even death itself 
has to the real Christian, no terrors. The only sting 
it has, is sin, and of tliat sting he has disarmed it* 
Instead of being to him, as it is to the worldly man, 
the extinction of his hopes, it is the consummation of 
them, and puts him in possession of those heavenly 
treasures on which his heart is fixed. He therefore 
goes on with cool undaunted composure to the dis- 
charge of his duty, whatever difficulties, w^hatever dan^ 
•gers, may stand in his way ; conscious that he is act- 
ing under the eye of an Almighty Being, who can both 
protect and reward him; who has commanded him, if 
it be necessary, *^to lay down his life for his breth- 
*' renf ;" and who will never suffer him to be a loser 
in the end, even by that last and greatest sacrifice to th<i 
public good. 

Such are the effects, the genuii"ve and natural effects, 
of RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLE ou the humau mind. It 
W'ill give us, as we have seen, every thing which our 
present situation seems more peculiarly to require; 

PUBLIC SPIRIT, UNANIMITY, AND UNSHAKEN FQR- 

fiTUDE. Embrace then, with thankfulness, the sup- 
port which Chistianity offers you, and which you hav« 
tiitherto sought elsewhere in vain. Amidst so manj 

* Prov. xxviii. 1. f 1 John iii. 16, 



SERMON XL 143 

enemies, take care to secure, at least, one friend. By 
obedience to the Divine laws, recommend yourselves 
^o the Divine protection ; and then remember those 
most comfortable expressions of the Almighty to an- 
other people : ^* How can I give tliee up, Ephraim ? 
** my soul is turned within me. I will not execute 
*' the fierceness, of my anger ; for I am God, and not 
" man^." '* In a little wrath I hid my face from thee 
*^ for a moment, but with everlasting kindness will I 
*' have mercy on thcef ." 

* Hos. x]. 8, 9. f Is. liy. I. 



SERMON XII. 



MAttH. X. 34 

T/unk not that I ant come to send peace on earth; t came not td 
sendfieace^ but a sword. 

E may, without the smallest hesitation, con- 
clude, that the words of the text cannot 
possibly have that signification which, at the first vicav, 
and as they here stand single and unconnected, they 
appear to have. It would be the extremity of weak- 
ness to suppose, that he whose whole life and doctrine 
breathed nothing but peace and gentleness, and who 
declared at another time, in the most positive terms, 
that " he came not to destroy men's lives, but to save 
*' them -*," should here mean to denounce war and 
desolation to the human species. And that, in fact, 
this is not the real import of the words before us, will 
be evident to any one who considers, with the least 
degree of attention, the whole passage from which 
they were taken, and the occasion on which they were 
spoken. It will be evident that they relate solely to 
the first preachers of the Gospel, to whom our Lord 
was then delivering their evangelical commission ; and 
were intended to apprize them of the calamities and 
persecutions to which the execution of that commission 
would infallibly expose them. *' They were sent forth 
'' as sheep among wolves ; they were to be delivered 
*' up to the councils, to be scourged in the synagogues, 
** to be brought before governors and kings, to be 

* Luke ix. 56. , 



SERMON Xir. US 

*' hated of all men for Christ's sake ^':" a treatment 
so totally opposite to that which their early prejudices 
led them to expect under the Messiah, the prince 
OF PEACE t, that it was highly necessary to set them 
right in this important point ; and to forewarn them in 
plain terms, that although the ultimate effect of Chris- 
tianty would indeed be peace in its utmost extent, 
and in every sense of the word, yet that to those w'ho 
were charged with the first promulgation of the Gos- 
pel, it would bring not peace ^ but a sword. 

But whatever interpretation may be given to these 
Words, say the adversaries of our faith, they are eventu- 
ally applicable . to Christianity in their most obvious 
meaning. The Gospel did in fact send a sivord, and a 
most destructive one, upon earthv It has deluged the 
world with blood. It has been the parent of as much 
misery and devastation, as if it had been purposely in- 
tended to harass and torment mankind, and has given 
rise to more dissensions, wars, and massacres, than 
any other single cause that can be named J. 

This it must be owned, is a formidable charge* 
But formidable as it is, and heightened, as it seldom 
fails to be, with all the invidious colorings of false 
rhetoric and false wit, we need not fear to meet it in its 
full force* It will, I apprehend, be no difiicult matter 
to convince every dispassionate enquirer, that when it 
is examined more closely and minutely, when it is di^ 
vested of all the adventitious terrors with which it has 
been so industriously surrounded, and when all the 
abatements and deductions are made, V\/hich truth de- 
mands and candor must admit, it will be reduced to 
an objection of litde or no importance. 

L Whenever the cruelties exercised by Christians 
against unbelievers, or against each other^ are mcu- 

* Matth. X. 16—22, + Isaiah ix. 6. 
\ This argument is so great a favorite with all our philosophical sceptics^ 
that it is every day dressed up in some new form, and repeated incessantly 
with an air of peculiar triumph and exultation. It is indeed in its very na- 
ture calculated to strike more generally, and to make deeper impressions, 
than any abstract reasoning ; and has, I believe, in fact, created stronger 
prejudice against the Gospel, than all the other cavils of infidelity put to- 
gether. For these vsasoiis it seemed to deserve Darticular considerauon. 

T 



M6^ SEKMON XII. 

tioned, ft is generally insinuated at the same tfnie> 
that they are not to be paralleled in any other religious^ 
persuasion, and that it was Christianity which first in- 
troduced the detestable practice of persecuting on ac- 
count of religion. But how unfair such representa- 
tions are, the most superficial acqaintance with history 
k sufficient to convince us. From the remotest ages 
down to the present, men of almost every sect and 
persuasion have treated those of contrary sentiments 
with no small degree of bitterness and inhumanity. It 
is well known, that Jews, Pagans, and Mahometans,^, 
have each in their turn made use of violence and coer- 
cion in matters of religion ; and that the early Chris- 
tians suffered the severest persecution from the two for-^ 
mer, long before they began to inflict it on others. 
This indeed is no vindication of those Christians that 
had recourse to it ; nor is it intended as such. No-- 
thing ever can vindicate or justify them. But it inay 
serve to show that others ought to bear a large- share of 
that odium which is generally thrown exclusively orr 
the disciples of Christ ; and that it is not Christianity, 
but human nature, that is chargeable with the guilt of' 
persecution*-. The truth is, religion, or t,be pretence' 
of religion, has in almost all ages and all nations, been 
one cause, among many others, of those numberless 
dissensions and disputes which have laid waste the 
species : and although it may be matter of surprize to* 
some, and of indignation to all, that what was intended 
for the protection and solace of mankind, should be 

* ^ven Pagans have persectlted Pagans on the score of reiig-ion, with the* 
utmost bitterness and rancor. Besides the memorable instance of So- 
crates, and the several holy or sacred vmrs among the Grecian States, which 
had some r.tixture of superstitious zeal in them, we find that in Egypt the' 
worship of diiTei^ent deities produced the most implacable hatred and- 
most sanguinary contests betw^een their respective votaries ; that in Persia 
the diciples of every other religion except that of Zoroaster were punished, 
and alm.ost exterminated, with the utmost cruelty ; and that in later times 
the kings of Siam and Pegu contended for the honor cf possessing a certain 
sacred relique, (of a nature too contemptible to be named here) with as" 
much fury and obstinacj, as if the safety of their whole kingdoms, and ev- 
ery thing valuable to them, had been at stake. See Plutarch in Solon. Thii- 
cyd. I. i. ffu'cenal Sat. xv. Becline and Fall of the Ronnan Empire, vol. \. p. 
^08. dnd MkkWs translation of the Liisiad cf Camoens, Introdiict. p. 94>. not^: 



SERMON XII. 147 

converted to their destruction, yet it may be accounted 
for on the most common principles of human conduct. 

The attachment of men to any particular object, will 
always increase according to the real or supposed value 
of that object ; and their zeal in defending it from in- 
jury or corruption, will rise in the same proportion. 
Hence religion, which has evdr been esteemed the most 
important of all human concerns, has for that very rea- 
son given the keenest edge to human resentments, and 
lias wound up the passions of men to a degree of phren- 
zy, to which no motive less weighty was capable of 
raising them. And yet, at the same time, if w^e com- 
pare the dissensions and cruelties occasioned by chii 
zeal, with those occasioned by religious zeal^ we shall 
find the latter to bear a much less proportion to the for- 
mer than is generally imagined, and frequently insinu- 
ated^. By £ir the greatest number of wars, as w^ell as 
the longest, most obstinate, most extensive, and most 
sanguinary wars wc know of, have been owing to causes 
•purely political^ and those too sometimes of the most 
trifling nature ; and if wc can allow men to harass 
and destroy one another for a mere point of honor, or 
a few^ acres of land, why should we think it strange to 
see them defending, with the same heat and bitterness, 
what they conceive to be the most essential requisite to 
happiness, both here and hereafter? If we will but con- 
sider religion in that single point of view, which is the 
only one that has any relation to this question, as an ob- 
ject ivhicb men haw licry niuch at heart. : and will admit 
the operation of the same passions and prejudices as are 
excited by any other object that they hav^ at heart, we 
shall no longer be at a loss for the source of those mis- 
chiefs that have been ascribed to it. 

11. As the nature of the human mind furnishes a 
very obvious reason for religious bigotry, and cruelty 

* '* Political Society , on ■a, moderate calculation, has been the means of 
murdering several times the number of inhabitants now upon the earth." 
See that admirable piece of irony, A Vindication of Natural Society y by the 
■late Mr. Edmund Burke ; in which the argument against Christianit}'^ 
drawn from the mischiefs occasioned by religious bigotry and persecution^ 
is most ingeniously and completely' overthrown. 



148 SERMON XII. 

In general, so may we, from the peculiar clrcumstan* t 
ces and situation of the earlier Christians, account for '''' 
the origin of tbeit' propensity to it in particular. 

Excess of happiness, or excess of misery, is fre- 
quently observed to give a savage turn to the temper. 
From the one, the mind is apt to contract a kind o£ 
hardness, and from the other a wantonness, which ren-. 
der it equally insensible to the feelings of humanity. 
It was from the agonies of a death-bed, amidst the 
pains of a most loathsome disease, and the still more 
insupportable torments of a wounded conscience, look- 
ing back on a life full of iniquity, that Herod gave or- 
ders for all the principal Jews to be massacred the mo- 
ment he expired*. And it was, on the contrary, from 
the midst of a luxurious and a voluptuous court, aboun- 
ding with every thing that could minister to ease, mag- 
nificence, and delight, that the scourge of the last cen- 
tury, Louis the XlVth, gave orders for turning into a 
desert, the country of a prince, whose only crime it was 
to be his enemy f . So similar are the effects which 
flow from these two opposite extremes. 

Both these extremes the Christian church experien-. 
ced, about the time we are speaking of, and, what was 
still more trying, experienced them in a very quick 
succession. The members of that church, from be- 
ing persecuted, tormented, afflicted, and treated as 
the off-scourings of the earth, became on a sudden 
the lords of it. Some, perhaps, may have fortitude 
enough to support great misery, or, what is perhaps 
no less difficult, extreme happiness, without any in- 
jury to their tempers. But it is very few that can bear 
a rapid transition from the one to the other, from indi- 
gence, distress, and oppression, to ease, security, and 
power. It was too much for the disciples even of the 
meek and humble Jesus. One might have thought, 

* Josephus. Antiq. 1. xvii. c. 6. 
f Voltaire, though a Krenchnian, and of course an admirer of Louis, yet 
speaks of this barbai-ous devastation of the Palatinate in the terms it de- 
serves. The natural and affecting picture he draws of that shocking scene,, 
must strike every heart v.'ith liorror.. Essai suy Pllistoire Geiierale, toin. v,. 
?. 16. 



SERMON XII. 149 

perhaps, that upon the civil estabhshment of their re- 
h^ion, the recent sense of their own sufferings would 
have taught them a lesson of mildness and moderation 
towards others. But it unhappily taught them the very- 
same lesson that it has generally taught to every other 
people in the same circumstances, in all ages of the 
world. For it is a fact too notorious to be denied, that 
in most contentions for superiority, whether religious 
or civil, the suffering party, when raised to power by a 
reverse of fortune, has scarce ever failed to adopt that 
inhumanity under which they so lately groaned ; and it 
is not so much oppression that is crushed, as the op- 
pressor that is changed. Every one will, upon this 
occasion, recall to mind the w^ell-known sanguinary 
struggles for power between the two rival states of 
Greece, and the still more sanguinary revolutions in 
the latter periods of the Roman republic; where the 
only contest seemed to be, which should exceed the 
other in cruelty ; and where the remembrance of for- 
mer massacres was obliterated, not by acts of mercy 
iind forgiveness, but by massacres still more furious 
and unrelenting, by the almost entire annihilation of 
the vanquished faction. 

When, therefore, our adversaries say that the. 
Christians made no other use of the new-acquired as- 
sistance of the civil arm, than to harass one another, 
and oppress their enemies, what else do they say, than 
that Christians were men ; that they only did what men 
of all religions and denomiiiations have commonly done 
under the same circumstances and temptations ; and 
that the spirit of the Gospel was lost in the corruption 
of human nature-*. 



* We find that even Julian, the philosophic Julian, though not a Christian, 
yet by some means or other became a most zealous bigot and persecutor. 
He -was of opinion, it seems, that a frantic patient (that is a Christian) 
might sometimes be cured by salutary niiolence He applied this remedy 
himself with no small degree of alacrity and vigor, and in some parts of 
his dominions allowed his provincial ministers to exercise the most brutal 
actsof cruelty towards the Christians with impunity, nay sometimes with 
applause. He even added insult to oppression. He condescended to em- 
})loy against the detested Galileans (as he w-as pleased to call the Christians) 
the acrimony of his imperial pen, and made them feel, not only the whole 
■weight of his sovereign power, but the utmost severity of his ironical and 



IS9 SERMON Xlf. 

It- might iiave been expected, indeed, that the ex- 
cellence of their ^religion would have restrained them 
from the common excesses of their species, and ren- 
dered them as much superior to other men in humanity 
and tenderness, as the benevolence of the Gospel was 
to that of every other religious institution in the world. 
A,nd certain it is that Christianity did by degrees sof- 
ten and mitigate the ferocity of the human mind. But 
this was not to be done one the sudden, in large bodies 
of men and extensive empires. It could not, without 
a miracle, instantaneously change the temper of the 
times, and bring about in a moment an entire revolu- 
tion in the prevailing disposition and established char- 
acter of those ages. The Roman emperors and their 
armies had for many centuries been accustomed to vio- 
lence, war, dissension, and tumult. They had been 
accustomed also to see every thing bend to their power, 
and obey their commands. When, therefore, they be? 
came ligislators in religion, as well as in every thing 
else, they would carry the same ideas along with them, 
even into tbat subject. They would expect a submis- 
sion as complete and absolute in that point as in every 
other ; and, if the smallest resistance was made to thei^ 
sovereign will and pleasure, they would \}e very apt 
to apply the same means to subdue stubborn con- 
sciences, which diey had found so successful in swbdu- 
iifig provinces and kingdoms. Thus did force come t^ 
be considered as the properest and most effectual argu- 
ment in religious as well as in civil contests. The ec- 
clesiastics would naturally be carried away in the gener- 
al current. Math all the other subjects of the Roman 
empire, and adopt the predominant sentiments and 
habits of their cotintrymen. And it would require a 

sarcastic luit. The cayses of those instances of intolerance, are not siirelj 
to he sought for in the religion of Christ. See Mr. Gibbon's Hist, of the 
JiecUne, 8ic. vol. ii. p. 370. to 409. Th.e philosophers were the chief instiga- 
tors of the persecution of the Christians under Dioclesian ; and Mr. Hume 
.(acknowledges, that the most refined and philosophic sects, are constantly 
the most intolerant. With what justice then can ^^ philosophy alene buast 
that her gentle hand is able to eradicate frona the human mind the latpnt 
.^nd deadly principles of fanaticisni ?" Jb. vol. i, cli. 8. n. 24. vd. ii. p. 50^,. 
»odv>Ql.. i. p, 5^. 



SERMON XIL 151 

Considerable length of time, and much juster concep* 
tions of the true character and genius of the Gospel 
than many of its teachers then entertained, to correct 
those inveterate prejudices, and subdue those turbu- 
lent passions, which had taken such firm hold upon 
their minds. 

III. With these obstacles in the way, it was hardly 
possible for the mild and benevolent principles of Chris- 
tianity to produce any immediate effect. And their 
operation was most unfortunately still further obstruct- 
ed by another cause which took place in the succeed- 
ing ages. Those northern barbarians, who, not long 
after the civil establishment of Christianity, invaded 
and overran the western empire, brought in with them 
a spirit of cruelty and martial violence, w hich was pro- 
pagated with their dominions, and communicated frota 
the conquerors to those they conquered. Their savage 
manners added fresh fuel to that sternness of disposition 
which had descended to the Christians of those ages 
from their Roman ancestors^ At the same time, by 
declaring open w^ar against all learning, sacred or pro- 
fane, they in a great measure precluded those whom 
they had vanquished from the only efTectual remedy that 
could be applied to that barbarity which they taught 
them. They rendered it almost impossible for themt 
to acquire a complete knowledge and a right appre- 
hension of the true temper of the Gospel, whose mild 
and gracious influence could alone rectify their errors 
and purify their hearts. No wonder then, that when 
this influence was in a great measure lost, when the 
Scriptures w^ere shut up in an unknow^n tongue, when 
the cultivation of letters, and especially of all critical 
and biblical learning, was at an end, when Gothic bru- 
tality was ingrafted on Roman fierceness, and every 
thing tended to inflame and exasperate the most furi- 
ous passions of the soul ; no wonder that the benefi- 
cent genius of Christianity could not operate with its 
fall and genuine force on the manners of those times. 
Yet still, notwithstanding all those disadvantages, when 
the barbarians themselves became converts to thefaith^ 



152 SERMON XlL 

it did in fact produce an effect, which no other cause 
was powerful enough to produce ; it molUiied, in many 
important instances, the ferocious temper of those sa- 
vage conquerors, who were thus in their turn subdued 
by the religion of those very enemies whom they had 
vanquished in the field*. And though, for the reasons 
above assigned, the spirit of intolerance continued to 
prevail, and even gradually to gain ground ; yet it was 
not till about the beginning of the thirteenth century, 
in which darkness and barbarity overspread the face of 
the whole earth, that this evil arrived at its utmost 
height. It was not till then that the inhuman v/ars 
against the Albigenses first began, that Christendom 
became for a long time one continued scene of desola- 
tion, that persecution was reduced to a regular system^ 
and murder made legal by that dreadful instrument 
of human fury, the inquisition ; in all which, Chris- 
tianity had just as much share, as ignorance, enthusi- 
asm, bigotry, and superstition, have in tlie composi- 
tion of genuine Christianityf. And although to us 
these wild excesses of mistaken zeal do now justly 
appear in the most odious colors, yet, as they were 
only of a piece with the general practice of those ages 
in other instances, they did not then excite in the 
minds of men any peculiar degree of astonishment or 
horror. At a time when military ideas predominated in 
everything, in the formof government, in the temper of 
the laws, in the tenure, oflan^, and even intheadmin- 
istration of justice itself, it could not be matter of much 
surprize that the church should become military too. 
And to those who w^ere accustomed to see (as they then 
frequently did) a civil right or a criminal charge, nay, 
even an abstract point of law±, decided by a com.bat 
or a fiery ordeal, instead cf a legal trial, it would not 

* See History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, vol. iii. 
p 533. 633. 

f Most of the bitter invectives, and eloquent declamations of both foreign 
and domestic philosophers against the mischievous effects of religion, are 
not objections to Cbr:stia?iitv but to popery ; and though they may em- 
barrass a Romish divine > yer seldom create any difficulty to a Protestant one. 

X Some very curious instances of this inay be seen in Dr. Rcbtrtsoa's 
History of Chkiles V. vqI. i. note 2'2. p. 348. 8vo. 



SERMON XII. 153 

seem at all extraordinary to teach men Christianity by 
fire and faggot, instead of argument and reason. 

IV. There is still another very material considera- 
tion to be taken into the account. 

It rs beyond a doubt, that a large part of those dissen- 
sions, wars, and massacres, which have been usually 
stiled religious, and with the entire guilt of which Chris- 
tianity has been very unjustly loaded, have been altoge- 
ther, or at least in a great measure, owing to political 
causes. Nothing has been more common, in all ages, 
than to see faction and ambition assuming a mask of 
religion, and pretending to fight in the cause of God and 
his church, when they had in reality nothing else in 
view but to create confusion or establish tyranny. It 
is well known, for instance, that the crusades them- 
selves, which are generally styled, by way of eminence, 
the Holy Wars, took their rise not from zeal for the 
Gospel or reverence for the Holy Land, but from the 
ambition, avarice, and rapacity, of two most turbulent 
Pontiffs* ; that the war of the League, and other civil 
wars in France, which were commonly supposed to have 
religion for their only subject, were in fact originally 
kindled, and principally fomented, by the restless in- 
trigues and personal resentments of the princes of the 
blood, and other great leaders of opposite factionsf ; and 
that the dreadful distractions in this country, during the 
last century, were not (as one of our historians aflirmsi:) 
owing chiefly to religious controversy, but to political 
causes. By what he calls, the infusion of theological 
hatred^ the sore was not made^ but only inflamed ; 
and although Cromwell, with much solemnity, affected, 
in every stage of his guilty progress, to be only seeking 
the Lord J yet it soon appeared that he was in truth seek- 
ing, what he ultimately obtained, the subversion of the 
constitution, and the acquisition of sovereign power. 

From these, and innumerable other instances of a 
similar nature, which might be produced, it is evident 

* Gregory the Vllth, and Urban the Ilcl. 
t See Davila throughout ; but particularly B. i. and vi. in which he inves- 
tigatcii with great sagacity the secret springs of those disturbances. 
\ Hume, Hist, cf England, 4t<j. vol. v- p. 255. 
w 



l54 SERMON XIL 

that difference of opinion in matters of faith, has muc^J 
oftener been the ostensible than the real cause of the 
calamities which have been ascribed to it. But were 
we even to allow that it has been the true and onljr 
source of tliose calamities, yet still the Gospel itself 
stands perfectly clear of all blame on this account* 
Whatever mischief persecution may have done in the 
world (and it has, God knows, done full enough) it 
was not Christ, but some mistaken followers of Christ, 
that brought this sword upon earth ; and it would be as 
injurious to ascribe to Revelation the false opinions and 
wrong practices of its disciples, however pernicious, 
as to impute to the physician the fatal mistakes of those 
who administered his medicines. The ver}'- best laws 
are liable to be perverted antl misinterpreted. It v/as 
the fate of the evangelical law to be so. Its spirit was 
misunderstood, and its precepts misapplied, by some 
of its avowed friends, and its authority made use of as 
a cloak for cruelty aiKi oppression by some of its se- 
cret enemies. But the Gospel all the while was guilt- 
less of this blood. It disclaimed and abhorred such 
unnatural supports, which it was as far from wanting as 
it was from prescribing. It authorized the use of no 
other means of conviction, but gentleness and persua- 
sion ; and if any of its disciples were, by a misguided 
zeal, betrayed into violent and sanguinary measures, 
the blame is all their own,^ and it is they must answer 
for it, not Jesus or his religion*. 

V. That this is a true representation of the case, ap- 
pears not only from the example and the declarations 
of our divine lawgiver, and the endless exhortations in 
the sacred writings to peace, love, mercy, compassion, 
and brotherly kindness tow^ards all men ; but from this 
consideration also, that in proportion as the Scriptures 
came to be more studied, and Christianity of course 
better understood, intolerance lost ground continually, 
and grew less violent in every successive age. And no 
sooner did the revival of letters, and the reformation of 

* To impute cmnes to Christianity is the act of a Novice. — —See the Kv 
»f Prussia's W^orks, vcl. xi. p. iri. 



SERMON XIL 155 

«ome parts of the Christian church, disperse that iEgyp- 
tian darkness in which all Europe had been so long in- 
volved, that juster notions, and milder sentiments of re- 
ligion, began immediately to take place. That hideous 
spectre persecution ^ which had terrified all the world 
during the night of universal ignorance, now shrunk at 
the approach of day : and when, upon the translation 
of the Bible into several languages then in vulgar use, 
every Protestant, with delight and astonishment, heard 
the Scriptures speak to him, in his own tongue ivberem 
he ivas born^, he immediately felt the heavenly influ- 
ence upon his soul ; and, as the sacred writings opened 
more and more upon him, found his heart gradually 
melt within him into tenderness; compassion, and love 
towards every human being, of whatever denomination, 
party, sect, or persuasion. 

VI, From that time to the present, the divine prin- 
ciple of charity has been continually acquiring fresh 
strength* In every reformed, th^t is, in every enlight- 
ened country, the native mildness of Christianity has 
evidently shown itself in a greater or a less degree ; and 
by subduing, or at least greatly mitigating the spirit of 
intolerance, has demonstrated to all the world, that the 
genuine tendency of its doctrines audits precepts, when 
rightly understood, is not to bring destruction but peace 
upon earth. These happy consequences of a better 
acquaintance with Revelation, seem to be gradually 
making their way into other kingdoms. Even that 
church which was the original parent, and is still in 
some countries the chief support, of persecution, has of 
late appeared to feel some small relentings of humanity, 
and to abate a little of its native implacability. One of the 
■firmest supporters of its tyranny, the society of Jesuits, 
is now no more, and many other of its religious com- 
munities are approaching gently to their dissolution f. 

* Acts ii. 8. 
f In France, Germany, Venice, and many parts of Italy, several religious 
houses have within the last ten or twenty years been suppressed. Smaller 
/:ommunities have been thrown together. In some, none are allowed %o 
take the vows under a certain age nor to give up to the convent more than 
■2. certain part of their propwty ; others are absoluteiy forbid to admit aj?/ 
j3*ore noyices.. 



156 SERMON XII. 

Ill two of the most bigotted and superstitious countries 
of Europe*, the inquisition has not of late years exhi- 
bited any of those public spectacles of cruelty and hor-. 
ror, with which it used formerly to astonish all the 
world. In some places it has lost or laid aside almost 
all its teiTors ; and in other Popish kingdoms the Pro- 
testants are said to enjoy a much greater degree of se- 
curity and ease than they have known for many yearsf . 
These circumstances seem to indicate, that the odious 
spirit of intolerance is almost every where dying away, 
and that the whole Christian world is gradually ap- 
proaching to that liberal and merciful way of thinking, 
which is so conformable to the precepts of their divine 
Master, and so essential to the mutual comfort and 
tranquillity of all his disciples. Certain at least it is, 
that in every country where the reformation has made 
its way, the more Christianity has been studied, and its 
true nature and disposition developed, the more benev- 
olent and merciful it has constantly appeared to be. The 
Church of England, in particular, has been distinguish^ 
ed no less for the moderation and lenity of its conduct, 
than for the purity of its doctrines. And although, af- 
ter it had shaken oif the galling yoke of Popery, it 
could not on a sudden divest itself of all its ancient he- 
reditary prjudices; although it was a considerable length 
of time before it could fancy itself secure against the 
Protestant separatists, without that body-guard of pains 
and penalties with which it had been accustomed to see 
itself, as well as every church in Europe, surrounded ; 
yet even in the plenitude of its authority, and when its 
ideas and its exercise of ecclesiastical discipline were at 
the highest, it stands chargeable with fewer acts of ex- 
treme and extravagant severity than any other establish- 
ed church, of the same magnitude and power, in the 
whole Christian world. By degrees, hovvcver, as it 
improved in knowledge, it improved in mildness too. 

* Spain and Portugal, 
t In Poland, France, Boheinia, and Hungary. In the two last, as well 
as mail the other Austrian dominions, the Emperor Joseph has taken very 
decisive steps towards a complete toleration, and an almost entire renun- 
ciation of the papal jurisdiction within his t^rritpries. 



SERMON XIL 157 

The last century saw the beginning, and the present 
times ha\^e seen the farther extension, of a most noble 
system of religious liberty, which has placed legal tole- 
ration on its true basis ; a measure no less consonant 
to sound policy than to the spirit of Christianity, and 
from which we may reasonably promise ourselves the 
most pacific and salutary effects. Let us then continue 
to maintain the character we have so justly acquired, of 
being the great supporters of religious freedom and the 
sacred rights of conscience ; let us make allowances 
for the natural prejudices of those who differ from us, 
and ^* forbear one another in love." There is, indeed, 
something very delightful in the idea of the whole 
Christian world uniting in every article of faith and 
practice, and agreeing no less in inward sentiment than 
in outward form. But this, I fear, is a visionary scene of 
unity and concord, which we have no reason to expect 
from any promises of Scripture, and still less from any 
principles of human nature. But there is an unity very 
consistent with the one, and very forcibly recommend- 
ed by the other, *' the unity of the spirit in the bond of 
peace^." This is that truly Christian bond, which, 
linking together every heart, leaves every judgment 
free, and, from the seeming discord of many different 
parts, makes up the entire consent and harmony of the 
whole. 

By a conduct formed on these genuine scriptural 
principles, we shall give the most effectual answer to the 
great objection which has been here combated, and the 
fullest confirmation to the several propositions that have 
been advanced, and I trust established, in this discourse. 
We shall confute by example, as well as by argument, 
the heavy charges of cruelty which have been so often 
urged against the religion we profess. We shall show 
(in jperfect conformity to the preceding observations) 
that these cruelties are in fact no just ground of re- 
proach to the Gospel ; that they are imputable only to 
those who have totally misapprehended or wilfully per- 
verted its doctrines and its precepts ; that the constitu- 

• Ephesians iv. 3. 



iSB SERMON^XIL 

Clonal temper of the Christian Revelation is not s e v e - 
■ai^Y, but MERCY ; and that although this was for a 
while obstructed (>r suspended by the operation of ad- 
ventitious causes, and the influence of local and accident 
tal circumstance?s, yet these having now either wholly 
ceased, or lost much of their original force, the divine 
benevolence of our religion has evidently begun, in this 
and many other countries, to produce its genuine effects. 
And we have every reason to believe, that, as scriptural 
knowledge advancfcs, these eflects will diffuse them- 
selves, though perhaps by slow degrees, over the whole 
Christian world ; that " the kingdom of God'' shall fi- 
nally appear to be, in a temporal as well as a spiritual 
sense, what the Scriptures afiirm it to be, joy and 
PEAGE^; and the^ffect of righteousness, (yjiETNEsg 

WFP ASSURANCE rOR EVERf. 

* Roto. xiy. 17. f Is^i, x^xii, IT, 



SERMON XHL 



LtJKi: ii* 14« 
On. earth peacCf good-will towards men, 

THE sacred hymn, of which the te^it is a par!, h 
that which the heavenly host were heard to sing 
at the birth of Christ j and the meaning of the words 
is generally allowed to be, That this great event Vvould 
be productive of peace to all the inhabitants of the 
earth, and was a most striking proof of God's good- 
will to mankind. 

One cannot help observing with what solemnity our 
blessed Redeemer was introduced into the world. He 
had not indeed any of this world's pom.p to follow hii'n. 
The grandeur that attended him was, like his king- 
dom, of a spiritual nature ; and it was a grandeur 
which shamed the pride of earthly magnificence. He 
was welcomed into life by the united congratulations 
of those celestial spirits, whose abodes he had just 
quitted, to take upon him the form of a man. It is 
the onl}' event recorded in history, that was ever dig- 
nified with such rejoicings, except that of the crea- 
tion. When the *' corner-stone" of the earth Vvas 
laid, the sacred writers tell us *' that the morning stars 
*' sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for 
'' joy^.'* This comer-stone f of the n^w creation was 
laid with the same solemnity. It should seem that 
these were the only two occasions which deserved so 
.j^lorious a distinction ; and that the redemption of 

. * Job xxxviii. 6, T/ f Eph. ii. 2Q. 



160 SERMON XIII. 

mankind appeared to the heavenly host to be a work 
no less glorious to God, and beneficial to man, than 
their creation. It is indeed in this light that the Scrip- 
tures do all along con^der it. They represent it as a 
nenv creation^^ as an entrance upon a new lifc\, as the 
production of a new manf, and frequently speak of it 
in terms that have a manifest allusion to the first for- 
mation of all things. Christ himself is called the 
LIGHT of this new worldii ; anc^, as the power and 
wisdom of God are *' clearly seen in the things that 
",^are made§, in the natural world, so in reference to 
the spiritual world, our Lord is in a still more emphat- 
ical manner styled the power of god, and th£ 
WISDOM OF god1[. And indeed, if to form the goodly 
fabric of this globe out of a confused heap of jarring 
elements, to raise up man from the dust of the ground, 
and breathe into him a living soul, were a most lively 
display of God's infinite wisdom and power, it was 
surely no less striking a proof of those divine attri- 
butes, to find out a way of reconciling his justice and 
his mercy, of bringing peace and salvation out of guilt 
and misery, and " quickening us again when dead ia 
** trespasses and sins**." And as our redemption 
was no less glorious to God than our creation, so nei- 
ther was it less beneficial to man. We should have 
had but little reason to rejoice in our creation, had not 
God once more *' created us to good worksft-'' 
Christianity threw open to us another and a better world, 
" a new heaven and a new earth J J ;" it restored to us 
the only things that could make existence worth pos- 
sessing, the favor of God, the means of happiness, 
and the hopes of immortality. 

It is worthy also of observation, that this mode of 
celebrating the birth of our Redeemer was most re- 
markably adapted to the character of the Messiah, and 
the nature of the commission with which he was 
charged. The ancient historians frequently affected 
to usher in the birth of warriors and conquerors with 

* 2 Cor. V. 17. Gal. vi. 15. t Rom. vi. 4. t Eph. iv. 24. Gel. iii. 10.' 
II John viii. 12. ^ Rom. i. 20. « 1 Cor. i. :4. ^* Eph. ii. i. 
f tEplies. ii. 10. :|:t 2 Pet. iii. 13. 



SERMON XIII. 161 

portents and prodigies of a dreadful nature ; commend- 
able in this, at least, that their fictions were well-suited 
to their personages, the enemies and destroyers of 
mankind. The Friend and Saviour of mankind was 
introduced into the world with declarations of universal 
peace and good- will. And in this the angels only speak 
the constant language of Scripture in describing the 
Messiah. They speak of him in a manner in which 
he loves to speak of himself, in which the prophets 
spoke of him before, and the apostles after him. He 
is called by Isaiah *' the prince of peace." *' Of 
'' the increase of his government and peace there is 
" said to be no end*." A little after, his reign is 
described by the most pacific emblems that imagina- 
tion could furnish, by " the wolf dwelling with the 
** lamb, and the leopard lying down with the kid f." 
His work of righteousness is peace J, and he makes 
with mankind the covenant of peace §. He himself 
tells his disciples, that " in him they were to have 
** peace II ;" and it is the legacy he bequeaths them, 
*' Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto 
you**. The sacred writers continue the same lan- 
guage in the New Testament. "The kingdom of 
** God is joy and peace ff." His Gospel is called 
*' the Gospel of peace JJ ;" and it is their constant 
salutation to the persons and churches to which they 
write. So remarkable a frequency and agreement in 
the use and application of this w ord, naturally raise our 
curiosity to enquire into the meaning of it, and make 
it worth our while to enquire in what sense or senses 
Christ may be said to have brought peace upon earth : 
which will lead us to the proof of the latter part of the 
text, that his birth was a most remarkable instance 
of God'' s good-will to mankind, 

I. The first and most important sense in which our 
Lord may be said to have brought us peace^ was, by 
taking upon him the sins of the world, and thereby 
making our peace with God, and in consequence of 

* Isaiah ix. 6. 7. f lb. xi. 6. + lb. xxxn. 17. § lb. Uv. 10, |I Johnxvi. 
33. ** John xiv. 27. ft Rom. xiv. 17. \i lb. x. 15. 

w 



162 SERMON XIII. 

this, giving lis that that peace of mind which the world 
could not give. *' He is our peace," says the apostle, 
*' that he might reconcile us to God^." '' The chas- 
*' tisement of our peace w^as upon hinrif." *' Being 
*' justified by faith, we have peace with God through 
*" oCir Lord Jesus ChristJ." Expressions of this and 
the like import are so frequent in Scripture, that it is 
impossible for the most ingenious criticism to elude 
their force. They evidently prove, that the peack 
which our Saviour '* brought on earth, ^' was in its 
primary acceptation of a spiritual nature ; that when 
we were at enmity with God, our peace was made 
with him by the death of his Son ; that he gave him- 
self for uSj an offering and a sacrifice to God II ; and 
that this is the chief point of view in which his divine 
mission is considered in Scripture. And no wonder 
that it should be so ; • for it was this of which mankind 
stood in the greatest need, and which natural religion 
was least able to afford. Whatever pretensions reason 
might make to the knowledge of a future state, or a 
complete rule of moral conduct, yet, to find out what 
atonement God would be pleased to accept for the sins 
of the whole world, was a discovery which exceeded 
the utmost stretch of her abilities. That some expia- 
tion was necessary, the Heathens plainly saw. They 
saw, that if there was a God, he must be pleased with 
virtue, and offended with vice. They perceived, that 
they were not virtuous, and therefore could not be in 
favor with God. They seem even to have wanted the 
iirst and fundamental requisite to tranquillity, an assur- 
ance that pardon was on any terms to be obtained. 
Their Jupiter was armed with thunder and lightning ; 
he had the ministers of his vengeance always at hand : 
but they had no emblems by which they were accus- 
tomed to express his ;?2<?rrv. There was indeed ^ipos- 
sibilityy perhaps a probability, that the Deity might 
pardon their offences ; but there was also a possibility 
that he might not ; and the vtrj possibility of being ex- 
posed to the resentment of a Being, w ithout mercy 

* Eph. ii. 14, 16 t Isai liii. 5. ;;; Rom. v. 1. H Heb. ix. 26 ; x. 12. 



SERMON XIII. 163 

and without control, was enough to sink them into des- 
pair. But whatever hopes they might have of appeas- 
ing the Deity by proper means, they could have but 
little (as I before observed) of finding out those means. 
The sacrifice of animals was the atonement on which 
they principally depended (a plain proof by the way, 
that the necessity of some animal sacrifice was an idea 
deeply rooted in the hearts of men) ; but they were not 
always satisfied even with this. Having perfect confi- 
dence in nothing, they tried every thing. They ran 
from one expedient to another, and, like men ready to 
perish, catched at every thing that seemed to afibrd the 
least shadow of relief. Hence that incredible number 
of deities, temples, altars, festivals, games, sacrifices, 
supplications, processions, and, in short, that infinite 
variety of ceremonies and superstitions, which served 
plainly to show their uneasiness, but not at all to re- 
move it. 

Here, then, the Gospel gave us peace, where no- 
tliing human could. From this w^e know that God is 
mterciful, long-suffering, and of great goodness. We 
know that he is reconciled to us by the death of his Son ; 
we are acquainted also with the means of preserving 
that favor which Christ procured for us ; and there is 
no longer added to the misery of guilt, the torment of 
not knowing how to expiate it. We are assured, ** that 
*' Jesus is the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin 
** of the world : that he came to seek and to save that 
** which was lost : and that whosoever believeth in him 
*^ shall not perish, but have everlasting life*^ In this 
respect, therefore, that is, in the most importr^nt of all 
human concerns, the meanest man amongst us has more 
true content, and peace, and satisfaction of mindf , 
than all the learning and wisdom of all the philosophers 
upon earth, ancient or modern, could ever bestow. 
But, 

II. It is not only in a spiritual sense that our Re- 
deemer brought peace upon earth ; it is true of him in 

* John i. 20. Matth. xviii. 11. John iii. 15. 

t Te duce. si qua manent sceleris vestigai nostri, 

hntsi perpetua solvent formidine terras. Vjao. Eel. iv. 15. 



ia4 SERMON XIII. 

a temporal meaning also. That benevolence of dispo^ 
sition, and gentleness of behavior, which he so con- 
stantly and so warmly recommended, both by his doc- 
trine and his example, were entirely calculated to pro- 
mote the peace and harmony of mankind, and to knit 
them together in one common bond of love and affec- 
tion. If ever peace was made visible in outward form, 
it was in the person of our blessed Lord. His whole 
life and conversation were one uniform representation 
of it, insomuch that it might, even in this sense, be af^ 
firmed of him, that ** of his peace there was no end*," 
It would be no difficult nor unplcasing task to trace the 
influence of this principle from his earliest to his latest 
breath ; and to draw together a very uncommon and 
surprizing assemblage of circumstances, all concurring 
to establish the uniformity of its operation through the 
whole tenor of his life ; but it may suffice for the pre* 
sent to touch upon a kw of the most obvious. It has 
always been remarked, that he came into the world in a 
time of profound and almost universal peace ; and hi^ 
birth was (as we have seen) first announced, by decla- 
rations of peace and good-will, to shepherds, men, ge^ 
nerally speaking, of a most quiet and inoffensive dispo- 
sition and behavior. The years of his childhood were 
passed in a meek and dutiful subjection to his earthly 
parents ; and after he came into public life, he showed 
the same peaceable submission to all his other lawful 
superiors. The persons whom he chose to be the com- 
panions and the witnesses of his ministry, were of the 
lowest station, and the humblest tempers. The first 
miracle he worked, was with a design to promote good^ 
humor and good-will among men ; and all of them 
tended to improve the peaceful enjoyment of life in some 
material instance. Yet, benevolent as the design of 
these and all his other actions was, he endeavored to do 
them all in such a manner, at such times, and in such 
places, as to give no offence to any one ; to excite no 
envy, jealousy, or unjust suspicions. He had at the 
game time to struggle with the prejudices, the mistakes, 

• Isaiah be. 7, 



SERMON XIII. 165 

and misconstructions of his friends, and the inveterate 
rancor of his enemies ; but yet he never suffered either 
the one or the other to disturb the composure of his 
mind, or the peaceableness of his deportment. He bore 
all the unmerited insults and injuries of his adversaries 
with more patience than his followers could see them, 
and was almost the only person that was not provoked 
at the treatment he met with. The same love of peace 
attended him to the last. The sword that was drawn 
in his defence he ordered to be sheathed^, and healed 
the wound it had infiictedf . Although, "if he had 
*' prayed to his father, he would have sent him twelve 
*' legions of an gels J, yet he suffered himself to be 
** led like a lamb to the slaughter ; and as a sheep be- 
*' fore her shearers is dumb, so opened he not his 
** mouth§. 

As he lived, so he also taught, for he " spoke 
" PEACE to his people**." The main purport of his 
discourses was, to banish from the minds of men all 
those malignant and turbulent passions which fill the 
world with disorder and misery, and to introduce in 
their room, every thing that tends to turn away WTath, 
to soften resentment, and to cherish peace ; a meek and 
inoffensive deportment, a patient resignation under in- 
juries and affronts, a compassionate tenderness and fel- 
low-feeling for the miseries of others, and a benevolence 
as extensive as the whole creation of God. If ever he 
entered into a house, he saluted it with peacieft. If 
the penitent and contrite sinner fell down and begged 
mercy at his feet, he bid him go in peace and sin no 
morejf . He was continually exhorting his disciples 
to " be at peace one with another, to love their very 
*' enemies, to bless those that cursed them, to do good 
*' to those that hated them, and to pray for those that 
<' despitefuUy used and persecuted them§§." 

From such a doctrine, supported by such an ex- 
ample, one might naturally hope for the most pacific 
effects. And in fact those effects have followed. For, 

• John xviii. 11- f Luke xxii. 51. X Matth, xxvl. 53. § Isai. liii. 7. 
•* Zech. ix. 10. ff Luke x. b. i\ lb. vii. 50 ; viii. 4S. John viii. 11. 
§§ Mark be. 50. Matt. iv. 44. 



166 SERMON XIIL 

although Christianity has not always been so well un- 
derstood, or so honestly practised, as it might have 
hQen ; although its spirit has been often mistaken, 
and its precepts misapplied *, yet, under all these dis- 
advantages^ it has gradually produced a visible and a 
blessed change in those points which most materially 
concern the peace and quiet of the world. Its benefi- 
cent spirit has spread itself through all the different re- 
lations and modifications of life, and communicated its 
kindly influence to almost every public and private 
concern of mankind. It has insensibly worked itself 
into the inmost frame and constitution of civil states. 
It has given a tinge to the complexion of their go- 
vernments, to the temper and administration of their 
lav/s. It has restrained the spirit of the prince, and 
the madness of the people. It has softened the rigor 
of despotism, and tamed the insolence of conquests. 
It has, in some degree, taken away the edge of the 
sword, and thrown even over the horrors of war a veil 
of mercy. It has descended into families, has di- 
minished the pressure of private tyranny, improved 
every domestic endearment, given tenderness to the 
parent, humanity to the master, respect to superiors, 
to inferiors ease ; and left, in short, the most evident 
traces of its peaceful genius, in all the various sub- 
ordinations, dependencies, and connexions of social 
life. These assertions would very easily admit, and 
may perhaps liereafter receive a particular proof. But, 
for the present, I must content myself with observing 
in general, that mankind are, upon the whole, even in 
a temporal view, under infinite obligations to the mild 
and pacific temper of the Gospel ; have reaped from it 
more substantial worldly benefits than from any other 
institution upon earth ; and found it, by happy experi- 
ence, to be a religion entirely worthy the gracious 
Father of the universe, and the Saviour of mankind. 
As one proof of this, (among many others) consider 
only the shocking carnage made in the human species, 
by the exposure of infants, the gladiatorial shows, and 

* See the preceding discourse. 



SERMON Xllf. 167 

the exceedingly cruel usage of slaves, allowed and 
practised by the ancient Pagans. These were not the 
accidental and temporary excesses of a sudden fury, 
but were legal y and established ^ and constant methods 
of murdering and tormenting mankind, encouraged by 
the wisest legislators, and affording amusement to the 
tenderest and most compassionate minds *. Had 
Christianity done nothing more than brought into dis- 
use (as it confessedly has done) the two former of these 
inhuman customs entirely, and the latter to a very great 
degree, it had justly merited the title of the benevo- 
lent RELIGION. But this is far from being all. 
Throughout the more enlightened parts of Christen- 
dom, there prevails a gentleness of manners widely dif- 
ferent from the ferocity of the most civilized nations of 
antiquity ; and that liberality with which every species 
of distress is relieved, both by private donations and 
public benefactions, even in some of the most bigotted 
countries of Europe, is a virtue as peculiar to the 
Christian name as* it is eminentlv conducive to social 
happiness. As for ourselves, in the nature of our 
civil constitution, in the extent of our freedom, in the 
security of our persons and properties, in die temper of 
our laws, in the administration of justice, in domestic 

* Besides the many other well-known severities exercised towards the 
«laves of the ancients, there was a law at Sparta, called the Cryptia, which, 
ordered them to be murdered in cold blood, whenever they increased 
so fast as to give umbrage to the state, Plutarch, in Lycurg. The same 
author (Z)e Aniore Fro/is) speaks of the exposure of infants as a very com- 
mon practice. Seneca does the same. De Ira, I. i. c. 15. It still obtains 
among the savages in America ; and it is said, that upwards of .'JOOO chil- 
dren are annually exposed in the streets of Pekin. Lipsius aiBrms (Saturn, 
\. i. c. 12.) that the gladiatorial shows somerimes cost Europe twenty or thir- 
ty thousand lives in a month ; and not only the men, but even the womea 
of all ranks, were passionately fond of these shows. The execrable barbar- 
ities here mentioned, continued as they were without intermission through a 
long course of years, must have destroyed many more lives than all the tem- 
porary ravages of religious persecution put together. I cannot conclude this 
note, without observing how strongly these shocking facts confirm the de- 
scription given of the ancient heathens by St. Paul, who represents thein as 
J'idi of murder, ivitbout natural affection, implacable, un'tnerciful. Rom. i. 29. 
31, And indeed the whole picture he there draws of Pagan morality and 
rebgion will be foiuid, on examination, to be in every the minutest feature of 
it exactly and accurately true. Let the reader peruse that chapter with atten^ 
tion, and let him thank God, from the. bottom of his soul; that he is a 

CHRISTIAN. 



168 SERMON XIII. 

peace and comfort, ii) offices of mutual kindness and 
charity, we have a visible and undeniable superiority 
over the ancients. To what then can this happy change 
in our circumstances be owing ? To philosophy (re- 
plies the Deist *) to mild and gende philosophy, to the 
humane suggestions of reason, and the improvement 
of the liberal arts. Were then reason, philosophy, 
and good learning, utterly unknown in Greece and 
Rome ? Were not these the very fountains of every 
thing that was sublime and excellent in human wis- 
dom and polite literature, from whence they were dis- 
tributed in the purest streams over the rest of the 
world, and descended to all succeeding ages ? Were 
they not carried, in those great schools, to a degree of 
elegance and perfection, at which it is at least doubtful 
whether the moderns have yet arrived, or ever will ? 
And yet in these very places, at a time when all the 
arts and sciences were in their full strength and ma- 
turity, it was then that those various inhumanities, 
which arc by Christians held in the utmost abhorrence, 
were publicly authorized, and an ambitious, conten- 
tious, sanguinary disposition universally prevailed. It 
was then that almost every civil government was a kind 
of military establishment, was founded in violence and 
maintained by it ; that wars were begun ^vantonly, 
conducted fiercely, and terminated inhumanly ; that a 
passion for martial achievements, a lust of empire, 
an insatiable thirst of glory and conquest, filled the 
world with bloodshed and confusion. It was then 
that, in the very best institutions, the greatest part of 
the subjects enjoyed no liberty at all ; and what the 
rest enjoyed, was purchased frequently at the expense 
of their repose, their humanity, and a great part of 
those social comforts which render liberty truly valua- 
ble. It was then that the courts of judicature (at 
Rome more especially) were inconceivably corruptf ; 
that the power both of the father and of the husband 

* Voltaire de la Tolerance, cb. iv. p. 30. 34. 44. 
t Opinio omniunn sermone percrebuit in his judiciis quae nunc sunt pecunt' 
«siivi bominem quam vis ait nocens, neminon posse damnari. Cic. in Verrehv. 
Urat. 1. 



SERMON XIIL 169 

was carried beyond all bounds of lenity and utility ; 
that divorces were allowed for the most trivial causes ; 
that the education of children was unreasonably severe 
and rigorous ; that infants were sacrificed to views of 
policy ; that men were trained up to murder each oth- 
er, for the entertainment of the spectators ; and that 
the happiest states were continually rent in pieces by 
the most violent dissensons, peoscriptions, and assas- 
sinations, which each party in its turn retorted on its 
adversaries, and always witli redoubled fury and inhu- 
manity. 

If then the utmost perfection of philosophy and the 
fine arts was not able to tame the fierceness of ancient 
manners, nay, if they actually grew worse, in this 
^nd many other respects, in proportion to their ad- 
vancement in learning and politeness, to what else but 
Christianity can it be owing, that scarce any consider- 
able traces of this universal barbarity now remain 
among us ; that in domestic society, the ease and hap- 
piness of each individual, even the very lowest, is 
properly attended to ; that weakness of sex, tender- 
ness of age, and humility of condition, instead (f 
provoking insult, generally attract pity and protection ; 
that civil liberty is in our own country more firmly 
rooted, more equally diffused, more securely enjoyed ; 
that justice is most uprightly and impartially adminis- 
tered ; that the meanest of the people are as much un- 
der the protection of the laws as the most rich and pow- 
erful ; that the rage of universal empire is considerably 
abated, and tlie frequency, duration, and cruelty of 
wars greatly diminished ; that civil commotions more 
rarely happen, are attended commonly with fewer cir- 
cumstances of inhumanity and horror, and have often- 
er proved favorable than fatal to liberty ; that the very 
worst dissesions in this country have been '^ less dis- 
tinguished by atrocious deeds, either of treacheiy or 
cruelty, than were ever any intestine discords of so 
long continuance^^;" and that the two happiest changes 
we ever experienced, the restoration, and the resolution 

* Hume's Hist. 4-to. vol. v. p. oS?. 

X 



170 SERMON XIII. 

were effected with very little interruption of publie' 
tranquillity, and were nothing more than easy transitionsy. 
not (as they would have been under Pagan or Mahom- 
etan governments) horrible comiuhions'^ t Compare alt 
these amazing improvements in social happiness, since 
the introduction of Christianity, with the precepts and 
doctrines of that religion ; consider their natural ten- 
dency to produce what actually has been produced, and 
then say whether you can hesitate one moment in as- 
cribing these effects to the Gospel, as their sole or at 
least principal cause t What puts this matter almost 
beyond a doubt, is, that in those countries where the 
Christian revelation is yet unknown, the civil blessings 
enjoyed hj Christianity are equally unknown. The 
miseries of their ancestors have descended to them with 
their superstitions, and bear a daily living testimony to 
the benevolence of our religion f. And it is no less 
remarkable, that the degree of perfection in which these 
advantages are enjoyed by any nation, is in general 
pretty nearly proportioned to the degree of purity in 
which the doctrines of the Gospel are there professed 

* Some perhaps may be inclined to doubt the truth of one of the positions 
advanced above, viz. that the frequency ^ duration, and cruelty of rears are less 
noiv than in ancient times. But when we consider the immense armies suc- 
cessively raised and lost by the Asiatic monarchs; the endless contentions^ 
for sovereignty between the rival states of Greece ; the prodigious numbers- 
slain by Alexander the great ; the sanguinary contests among his successors 
for upwards of 200 years ; the continual scenes of bloodshed which Sicily ex- 
hibited for many centuries under its various tyrants ; the incessant wars of 
the Romans v/ith the Italian states, the Carthaginians, the Macedonians^ 
Greeks, and various Eastern nations, the Spaniards, Gauls, Britains, and 
Germans, besides the shocking carnage of their own civil wars, so as to have 
been only three times in a state of peace, for a short interval, during almost 
seven centuries ; when we reflect further, that it was no uncommon thing, 
in those ages, to see armies of 300,000 men in the field, of which sometimes 
the whole, frequently the greater part, and always a large part, fell in battle ; 
and when to all this we add the incredible 4evastations made by the several 
barbarous hordes, that at different times burst forth in torrents from the 
North, and deluged Europe, Asia, and Africa with blood ; we shall, perhaps, 
be inclined to think that Christianity has, upon the whole, already lessened 
the horrors and desolations of war in some degree, and that, as it comes to 
be better understood, and more generally embraced and practised, its pacific 
influence Virill be growing every day more visible and effectual. 

t Let the reader only connpare the present state of the Eastern and Wes- 
tern Indies, of Africa and China, of the Turkish and the Persian empires* 
and of all the late discovered islands, both in the northei-n and the southerit. 
hemisphere, with that of the Christian part of Europe, and he will hare 
little reason to doubt the truth of what is here asserted, 



SERMON Xnr. 171 

and taught. Thus, for example (to produce only one 
instance out of a multitude) in those kingdoms, where 
there is no Christianity, there is no liberty. Where 
the superstitions and corruptions of Popery, have al- 
most totally destroyed the simplicity of the Christian 
revelation, there too is liberty much obscured and de- 
pressed. Where some of those corruptions are thrown 
off, there some brighter gleams of liberty appear. 
Where the national religion approaches nearest to the 
native purity of the Gospel, there too civil liberty shines 
forth in its full lustre, and is carried to a degree of per- 
fection, beyond which human weakness will not, per* 
haps, suffer it to be advanced. 

ill. Having dwelt so long on the first part of this 
discourse, the beneficial influence of the Gospel on the 
peace and happiness of mankind^ there is the less time, 
and indeed the less necessity, to enlarge on the other, 
that is, on the e^oidence "which arises from hence of the di- 
vine goodness and mercy towards us. For, since it has 
been shewn that Christ did in almost every sense of the 
word, bring peace upon earths ; that he has made our 
peace with God, by taking upon him the sins of the 
whole world ; that he has, in consequence of this, re- 
stored to us our peace of mind ; that he has introduced 
peace and gendeness into the sentirnents and the man- 
ners of men towards each other ; and that, notwithstand- 
ing all the difficulties and disadvantages under which 
the Gospel has labored, the many violent passions it has 
had to struggle with, and the variety of obstacles which 
have impeded its operations, and counteracted its na- 
tural effects. It has nevertheless gradually and silently, 
yet effectually, advanced the peace and comfort of so- 
ciety ; what need can there be of any further proof 
that the mission of Christ was a most striking instance 
of God's good- will to mankind f 

Instead therefore of going about to prove what w^e all 
feel to be true, let me rather endeavor to inspire you 
with what I fear is not ahvays felt as it ought to be, a 
proper warmth of gratitude and love for such unspeak- 

* See Vitringa on Isaiah ii. 4. 



172 SERMON XIIL 

able goodness. If you ask what return God expects 
for sending his Son into the world, let the Apostle an- 
swer you ; ** If God so loved us, we ought also to love 
*^ one another*." An extensive, an active benevolence, 
is the tribute he demands from you ; and when he 
m^kcs you happy, the condition is no harder than this, 
that you should make otbers so. Let then your thank- 
fulness be expressed in that best and most forcible of 
all languages, better, as St. Paul says, than the tongue 
of men and angels, charity. Let it prompt you to 
every act of kindness and hum.anity towards your 
neighbor. In this there can be no dissimulation or dis- 
guise. Sacrifices may be offered by impure hands^ 
and praises by dissembling or unmeaning lips. But he 
who relieves the indigent, instructs the ignorant, com- 
forts the afflicted, protects the oppressed, conceals the 
faults he sees, and forgives the injuries he feels, affords 
a most convincing proof of his sincerity, an incontesti- 
ble evidence of his gratitude to his heavenly benefactor. 
And be not afraid, I beseech you, of doing too much, 
of over-paying God's favors. After you have ranged 
through the whole field of duties, which charity lays 
open to you, the blessings you bestow will fall infinitely 
short of those you have received. Put then your abili« 
ties upon the stretch, to do all the good you can unto 
all men. But in a more especial manner, since it was 
one of the chief ends of Christ's mission tQ bring peace 
upon earthy let it be your great ambition to co-operate 
with him, as far as you are able, in this great design ; let 
it be your constant study and delight to tread in the 
steps of your blessed Master, and to contribute every 
thing in your power towards completing that great and 
god-like work of giving peace to man, " Let all bit^ 
" terness, and wrath, and clamor, and evil- speaking, be 
*' put away from among you, with all malice ; and be 
^' ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one 
*' another, even as God, for Christ's sake, hath forgiven 
*/ youf." 

* John iv. 11. t Ephesians iv- 31. 33> 



SERMON XIV. 



2 Tim. iii. 4. 

JuOvers of pleasures more than lovers of God. 

TO what period of time, and to what particular per- 
sons, the sacred writer here alluded, it is neither 
easy nor material to determine. But there is a ques- 
tion which it is very material, and 1 doubt but too easy, 
for most of us to answer ; whether the description in 
the text may not be justly applied to ourselves ? In 
whatever sense we take the word pleasure, whether 
as denoting those which are in themselves criminal, or 
those which only become so by excess and abuse ; it 
is surely doing us no injury to say, that we *' love them 
more than God." At present I shall confine myself to 
that sort of pleasures, which are usually styled innocent ; 
and in a certain degree, and under proper restrictions, 
undoubtedly are so ; I mean the gaieties and amuse- 
ments of life. If we are not lovers of these pleasures 
more than lovers of God, if our piety is greater than our 
dissipation, it must be great indeed. If we serve our 
Maker with half that zeal, half that alacrity and perseve- 
rance, with which we pursue our amusements, we 
should be the most pious nation this day upon earth. 
But how far this is from being the case, at least with re- 
spect to a large proportion of almost every rank of men 
amongst us, is but too apparent. It is not the living 
G o D , it is p L E A s y R E that they worship. To this they 
are idolaters ; to this they sacrifice their time, their ta- 
lents, their fortunes, their health, and too often their in- 



174 . SERMON XIV. 

nocence and peace of mind. In their haste to enjoy 
this life, they forget that there is another ; they live (as 
the Apostle expresses it) ^* without God in the world*," 
and their endless engagements not only exclude all love, 
but all thought, of him. However carefully right prin- 
ciples of religion may have been originally planted in 
their breasts, they have no room to grow up. They arc 
choked with the pleasures of this world, and bring no 
fruit to perfection. Invention seems to have been tor- 
tured to find out new ways of consum.ing time, and of 
being uselessly employed. And there has appear- 
ed so wonderful an ingenuity in this respect, that it 
seems almost impossible for the wit of man to invent, or 
the life of man to admit, any further additions to this 
kind of luxury. There are thousands, even of those 
who would take it very ill to be called vicious, who yet 
from the time of their rising in the morning to the time 
of their going to rest at night, never once bestow a sin- 
gle thought upon eternity ; nor v»'hile they riot in the 
blessings of Providence, vouchsafe to cast one devout 
look up to the gracious Author of them, in whom 
*' they live, and move, and have their beingf ." 

Many, I know% would persuade themselves and 
-others, that there can be no harm where there is no 
actual vice ; and that, provided they step not over the 
bounds of virtue, they cannot be guilty of an excess 
in pleasure. 

But is it true, in the first place, that the man of gai- 
ety never does step over the bounds of virtue ? Are all 
those things which go under the name of amusements 
as perfectly innocent as they are generally represented 
to be ? Is there not one diversion at least (as it is called) 
and one so predominant in the higher ranks of life, 
that it has swallowed up almost every other, which is 
big with the most fatal mischief? A diversion, which, 
far different from the common run of amusements, has 
no foundation in our natural appetites ; no charms to 
captivate the fancy, or the understanding ; nothing to 
make glad the heart of man, to give him a cheerful 

* Eph. ii. 12. f Acts xvii. 28. 



SERiMON XIV. 175 

countenance, and refresh him after the cares and fli- 
ligues of duty ; but runs counter to reason, sense, and 
nature ; defeats all the purposes of amusement ; sinks 
ihe spirits instead of raising them ; sours the temper 
instead of improving it : and, when it is carried to its 
utmost lengths, takes such entire and absolute posses- 
sion of the soul, as to shut out every other concern 
both for God and man ; extinguishes every generous 
sentiment ; excites the most malignant passions ; pro- 
vokes to the most profane expressions ; brings distress, 
sometimes ruin, upon its wretched votaries, their fam- 
ilies, friends, and dependants ; tempts them to use un- 
fair, or mean, or oppressive methods of retrieving 
their affairs ; and sometimes to conclude the dismal 
scene by the last fatal act of desperation. I do not say 
that gaming always produces these effects ; or that it 
is to all persons, in all circumstances, and in all its 
various degrees, equally pernicious and unlawful. But 
it has always a natural tendency to these effects, it al- 
ways exposes ourselves and others to great danger, and 
can never be ranked among our innocent amusements. 
Yet as such it is every day more and more "pursued ; 
nay has even appropriated to itself the name of play ; 
for what reason I know not, unless to play v\'ith our 
lives and fortunes, with happiness temporal and eternal, 
be the most delectable of ail human enjoyments. 

But ])utting this sti*ange unaccountable passion out 
of the question ; do not even our most allowable di- 
versions sometimes end in sin, though they may not 
begin witli it ? Does not an immoderate fondness for 
these trivial things, insensibly weaken and corrupt our 
hearts, and lead us by imperceptible steps to a temper 
of mind, and a course of action, essentially wrong ? 
The fact is, a state o^ neutrality \n religion, an insipid 
mediocrity between vice and virtue, though it is what 
many would be glad to take up w ith, is an imaginary 
state ; at least, is very seldom, if ever, to be found in a 
life of gaiety and dissipation. The man who is con- 
stantly engaged in the amusements, can scarce ever 
escape the pollutions, of the world. In his cao-cr pur- 



176 SERMON XIV.. 

suits of pleasure, he will be sometimes apt to overshoot 
the mark, and to go further than he ought, perhaps 
than he intended. Even they who are most in earnest 
about their future welfare ; who have taken care to 
fortify their minds with the firmest principles of reli-^ 
gion ; who constantly endeavor to keep alive their 
hopes and fears of futurity ; to guard with the utmost 
vigilance every avenue of the mind, and secure all *' the 
issues of life*;" even these, I say, are sometimes 
Unable with all their caution and circumspection, to 
prevent surprize ; with all their strength and resolu- 
tion, to withstand the violence of headstrong passions 
and desires ; which often burst through all restraints, 
and beat down all the barriers that reason and religion 
had been a long time raising up against them. What 
then must be the case when ail the impressions of reli- 
gion are, by the continual attrition of diversions, worn 
out and effaced ; when the mind is stript of all pru- 
dential caution ; no guard left upon the imagination ; 
no check upon the passions ; the natural spring and 
vigor of the soul impaired, and no supernatural aid to 
strengthen and support it ? What else can be expected, 
but that we should fall an easy prey to the weakest 
invader, and yield ourselves up to the slightest temp- 
tation ? *' When tlie unclean spirit cometh, he finds 
*< everything within prepared for his reception, empty, 
** swept, and garnished ; and he taketh with him seven 
** other spirits more wicked than himself; and they 
** enter in, and dwell there, and the last state of that 
** man is worse than the first f ;" he begins in gaiety, 
and ends in vice. 

Let us, however, take this question up on the most 
favorable grounds : let us allow it possible for you to 
run round for ever in the circle of gaiety, without ever 
once striking into the paths of vice. Is this, do you 
think, sufficient for salvation ? If your amusements as. 
effectually choke the good seed as the rankest weeds 
of vice, can you with any propriety call them innocent ? 
Do you imagine that God, who is a jealous God J," 

* Proverbs iv. 23. ■\ Matth. xii. '14, 45. | Exod. xx, 5. 



SERMON XIV. 177 

will bear to be supplanted in your affections by every 
trifle ; or that he will be content Avith your not taking 
up arms against him, though you do him not one 
single piece of acceptable service ? The utmost you 
can plead is a kind of negative merit, the merit of doing ^ 
neither good nor harm ; and what reception that is 
likely to meet with, you may judge from the answer 
given to the unprofitable servant, who produced his 
talent wrapt up in a napkin, undiminished indeed, but 
unimproved : ** O thou wicked servant, wherefore 
'' gavest thou not my money into the bank, that at my 
** coming I might have required mine own with usu- 
«' ry* ?" It is not enough merely to abstain from gross 
crimes. It is not enough to enjoy yourselves in an in- 
dolent harmless tranquillity ; to divide matters so nicely 
as to avoid equally the inconveniences of vice, and the 
fatigues of virtue ; to praise religion in words, to love it 
perhaps in speculation, but to leave the trouble of prac- 
tising it to others. This languor and inactivity is a 
kind of lethargy in the soul, which renders it utterly 
insensible to the life and spirit of religion. Indiffer- 
ence in any good cause is blameable. In religion, in 
the Christian religion, it is insupportable. It does vi- 
olence to the first and fundamental principle of that re- 
ligion : *' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
*' thy heart j with all thy soul, with all thy mind, and 
* ' with all thy strengthf ." Go now and let your whole 
heart, and soul, and mind, and strength, be engaged 
in pursuing your amusements, and promoting your 
pleasures, and then lay claim to the rewards of Chris- 
tianity. 

Happy will it be for you, if you can escape its pun- 
ishments. The Gospel, I am sure, gives you no 
grounds to suppose that you shall. Though you bear 
no " evil fruit," yet if you bear no '' good," you are 
involved in the sentence of the fig-tree, '' Cut it down, 
*' why cumbereth it the ground J." To do nothing is, in 
many cases, to do a positive wrong, and as such requires 

* Luk« xix. 23. f Mark xil 30, + Luke xiii. 7. 



178 SERMON XIV. 

a positive punishment. To stand neuter in dangerous 
confimotions of the state, the great Athenian lawgiver 
declared to be a crime against the state ,- and ki like 
manner the great Christian lawgiver declares ; *' he 
" that is not with me, is against me, and he that gath- 
*' ereth not with me, scattereth abroad*." 

Christianity is throughout an acthe religion ; it con- 
sists *not only in '* abstaining from all appearance of 
*-* evilf ;" but *^' in being ready to every good work J ;"' 
and if we stop short at the first, we leave the better 
half of our business undone. Christ himself *' went 
*' about''' continually " doing good[| ;" and he has pre- 
scribed a variety of positive and practical duties to hi^ 
disciples^ as the condition of their salvation ; and 
pressed the performance of these duties upon them,, 
with an earnestness and a force of expression, that 
may well alarm the thoughtless and the gay, and make 
them reflect on the extreme danger of their situation^ 
With regard to God, we are commanded '* to believe 
** in him, to* fear him, to love him,, to worship him^ 
** to gi^e him thanks always, to pray without ceasing, 
*^ and watch thereunto with all perse veranee*"" With 
regard to our neighbor, u e are " to do good unto all 
" men, to be rich in good works, to be kind and ten- 
'' der-hearted, to feed the hungry, to cloath the na- 
'' ked, to remember them that are in bonds, to minis- 
*' ter to the sick^ to visit the fatherless and widows in 
** their affliction." With regard to ourselves, we are 
enjoined " to be temperate in all things, to keep under 
** our bodiesy and bring them into subjection, to set 
" our affections on things above, to watch and pray 
** lest we enter into temptation, to woii: out our salva- 
" tion with fear and trembling, to use all diligence to 
** make our calling and election sure." Such and so 
various are the duties pressed upon us in every page of 
the Scriptures. And is this now a religion to be tri- 
fled with ? Is it not enough to employ every moment 
we can spare from the indispensible duties of our sta- 
lion, and the necessary refreshments of nature ; and how 

* Msttt. xii. SO: -j: 1 Thcss. v. 22. X Tit- J"- 1- I Acts x. 3*. 



SERMON XIV. 179 

then can it be consistent with that incessaot hurry and 
dissipation, which, intent only on providing a succes- 
sion of worthless amusements and ignoble gratifica- 
tions, overlooks every obligation of a man and a Chris- 
tian ; and supposes that the whole business of life is not 
to employ time usefully, but to consume it insignificant- 
ly ? Can tliese men seriously imagine that they are all 
this time ^-^ working out their salvation," that they are 
*' pressing forward towards the mark of the prize of 
'** their high calling*," that they are ■every day draw- 
ing nearer and nearer to immortal happiness, and that 
they shall share the crown of glory with them who 
** have borne the burden and heat of the day ?f" Is 
eternal life so very small an object, so extremely cheap 
a purchase, as to require not the least pains to obtain it ? 
Or is the situation of the rich man repi-esent^ed in Scrip- 
ture to be so perfectly safe and secure, that, while the 
rest of mankind are enduring aHlictions, struggling 
with difficulties, subduing their passions, and ** work- 
^' ing out their salvation with fear and trembling ;" he, 
and he only, may neglect all these precautions, may 
give up his whole time and thougiits to dress, and 
magnificence, and diversioa, and good cheer; may 
center his whole care in his own dear person, and make 
it his sole study to gratify every wish of his heart ; may 
leave his salvation to take care of itself, and, as if he 
had obtained a promise of Heaven in reversion, think 
of nothing but present felicity; and say within him- 
self, *' Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many 
*' years, take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry J ?" 
Be not deceived : this is not virtue ; this is not reli- 
gion ; this is not Christianity. It is, on the contrary^ 
that very temper of mind, that indolent, soft, luxuri- 
ous, dream of the soul, for which the rich man in the 
Gospel was condemned *' to lift up his eyes in tor- 
** ments(] ;" and let those who dread his punishment 
be warned by his example. 

It is then a fatal mistake to suppose, that a life of 
continual gaiety and dissipation, because it is not mark- 

• Phil. iii. U. t IVIatt. xx..l2. 1^ Luke xii. 19. |! JLuke xvii. 23. 



180 SERMON XIV, 

ed with any. notorious crimes, because it does not shock 
our consciences with palpable guilt, is therefore per^ 
fectly innocent. You have by this tinie seen, I hope, 
that it is far from being so, You have seen that it natu- 
rully leads to, and frequently terminates in, actual vice 5 
that at the least it so totally unmans and enfeebles the 
soul, as to render it unfit for the reception of religious 
truths, incapable of exerting its nobler powers, unable 
to struggle through the common difficulties, or sup- 
port the common afflictions, of life ; and leaves neither 
time, nor inclination, nor ability, to perform the most 
important duties of a man, a social being, and a Chris- 
tian. 

The truth is ; although diversions may serve very 
well to quicken a palled appetite, they are much too 
poignant and high-seasoned to be the constant food and 
nourishment of the soul. They not only destroy our 
relish for the more plain and simple fare of sobriety 
and virtue, but lay a foundation for the worst diseases ; 
and though they do not so instantly kill as the deadly 
poison of vice, yet with a gradual and fatal certainty, 
they undermine the vital parts, and sap the constitution. 

Beware then of an error, which is the more dan- 
gerous, because it is not always perceived, or at least 
acknowledged, to be an error. And such of you, 
more especially, as are just setting out in life, full of 
those high spirits and gay imaginations which youth, 
and rank, and affluence naturally inspire ; beware of 
giving way to that feverish thirst of pleasure, to that 
frivolous turn of mind and levity of conduct, which 
will render all your great advantages useless, and totaU 
ly defeat every grand purpose of your creation. Do 
not imagine that you were born to please yourselves 
only. Do not entertain that false, that destructive nor 
tion, that your wealth and time are all your own ; that 
you may dispose of them exactly as you think fit ; 
may lavish the whole of them on your own pleasures 
and amusements, without being accountable to any one 
for the application of them. There is One, most as- 
suredly, who may, and who has declared that he wills 



SERMON XIV. 181 

call you to an account, for the use of that leisure, and 
those riches, which he bestowed upon you for far other 
purposes than that mean ignoble one of mere selfish 
gratification. There are duties of the last importance 
owing to your families, your friends, your country, 
your fellow- creatures, your Creator, your Redeemer, 
which you are bound under the most sacred ties to per^ 
ferm ; and whatever calls off your attention from these, 
does from that moment cease to be innocent. Here 
then is the precise point at which you ought to stop. 
You may be lovers of pleasure ; it is natural, it is 
reasonable, for you to be so ; but you must not be 

LOVERS OF PLEASURE, MORE THAN LOVERS OF GOD. 

This is the true line that separates harmless gaiety from 
criminal dissipation. It is a line drawn by the hand of 
God himself, and he will never suffer it to be passed 
with impunity. HE claims, on the justest grounds, 
the first place in your heaits. His laws and precepts 
are to be the first object of your regard. And be as- 
sured, that by suffering them to be so, you will be no 
losers even in present feUcity. It is a truth demonstra- 
ble by reason, and confirmed by invariable experience, 
that a perpetual round of fashionable gaiety, is not the 
road to real substantial happiness. Ask those who have 
tried it, and they will all (if they are honest) with one 
voice declare, that it is not. It is indeed in the very 
nature of things impossible that it should be so. This 
world is not calculated to afford, the human mind is 
not formed to bear, a constant succession of new and 
exquisite delights. To aim therefore at uninterrupted, 
unbounded gaiety, to make pleasure so necessary to 
your existence, that you cannot subsist one moment 
without it, is to convert every thing that is not absolute 
pleasuFC into absolute pain, and to lay the foundation 
of certain misery. Diversions arc of too thin and un- 
substantial a nature to fill the whole capacity of a ra- 
tional mind, or to satisfy the cravings of a soul form- 
led for immortality. They must, they do, tire and 
disgust; you see it every day; you see men flying 
from one amusement to another ; affecting to be happy, 



182 SERMON XIV. 

yet feeling themselves miserable ; fatigued with per- 
suing their pleasures, yet uneasy without them ; grow* 
ing sick at last of them all, of themselves, and every 
thing around them ; and compelled perhaps at last to 
have recourse to solitude, without the least provision 
made for it ; without any fund of entertainment within, 
to render it supportable. From this wretched state it 
is that religion would preserve you ; and the very worst 
you have to fear from it, is nothing more than such 
gentle restaints on your gaiety, as tend to promote the 
very end you have in view, the true enjoyment even 
of the present life. Suffer it then to do you this kind 
office ; and do not look on Christianity in that gloomy 
light, in which it sometimes perhaps appears to you. 
Far from being an enemy to cheerfulness, it is the tru- 
est friend to it. That sober and temperate use of di- 
versions, which it allows and recommends, is the sur- 
est way to preserve their power to please, and your 
capacity to enjoy them. At the same time, though it 
forbids excess in our pleasures, yet it multiplies the 
number of them ; and disposes the mind to receive 
entertainment from a variety of objects and pursuits, 
which to the gay part of mankind are absolutely flat 
and insipid. To a body in perfect health, the plainest 
food is relishing ; and to a soul rightly harmonized by 
religion, every thing affords delight. Rural retirement 
domestic tranquillity, friendly conversation, literary 
pursuits, philosophical enquiries, works of genius and 
imagination ; nay even the silent beauties of unadorn- 
ed nature, a bright day, a still evening, a starry hemi- 
sphere, are sources of unadulterated pleasure, to those 
whose taste is not vitiated by criminal indulgences, or 
debased by trifling ones. And when from these you 
rise to the still more rational and manly delights of vir- 
tue ; to that self- congratulation which springs up in the 
soul from the consciousness of having used your bes^ 
endeavors to act up to the precepts of the Gospel ; of 
having done your utmost, with the help of Divine 
Grace, to correct your infirmities, to subdue your 
|3 assions, to improve your understandings, to exalt 



SERMON XIV. 183 

and purify your affections, to promote the welfare of all 
within your reach, to love and obey your Maker and 
your Redeemer ; then is human happiness wound up 
to its utmost pitch ; and this world has no higher grat- 
ifications to give. 

Try then, you, who are in search of pleasurs, try 
these among the rest ; try, above all others, the pleas- 
ures of devotion. Think not that they are nothing 
more than the visions of a heated imagination. They 
are real, they are exquisite. They are what thousands 
have experienced, what thousands still experience, 
what you yourselves may experience if you please. 
Acquire only a taste for devotion, (as you often do for 
other things of far less value) in the beginning of hfe, 
and it will be your support and comfort through the 
whole extent of it. It will raise you above all low 
cares, and little gratifications ; it will give dignity and 
sublimity to your sentiments, inspire you with forti- 
tude in danger, with patience in adversity, with mod- 
eration in prosperity, with alacrity in all your underta- 
kings, with watchfulness over your own conduct, with 
benevolence to all mankind. It will be so far from 
throwing a damp on your other pleasures, that it will 
give new life and spirit to them, and make all nature 
look gay around you. It will be a fresh fund of cheer- 
fulness in store for you, when the vivacity of youth be- 
gins to droop ; and is tlie only thing that can fill up 
that void in the soul, which is left in it by every earth- 
ly enjoyment. It will not like worldly pleasures, de- 
sert you, when you have most need of consolation in 
the hours of solitude, of sickness, of old age ; but 
when once its holy flame is thoroughly lighted up in 
your breasts, instead of becoming more faint and lan- 
guid as you advance in years, it will grow brighter and 
stronger every day ; will glow with peculiar warmth 
and lustre, when your dissolution draws near ; will dis- 
perse the gloom and horrors of a death-bed ; will give 
you a foretaste, and render you worthy to partake of 
that FULNESS OF JOY, tliosc purc celestial PLEASURES 
which are at ^* God's right hand for evermore*." 

* Psal. xyi. 11. 



SERMON XV. 



James ii. 10. 

Whosoever shall keep, the 'whole lanv^ and yet offend in one fioint^ M 
is guilty of all. 

THERE are few passages of Scripture which have 
given more occa3ion of triumph to the enemies 
of Christianity, and more disquiet to some of its 
friends than that now before us. The former repre- 
sent it, as a declaration in the highest degree tyran- 
nical, absurd, and unjust ; the latter read it with con- 
cern and terror, and are apt to cry out, '' it is a hard 
saying, who can hear it* ?" And a hard saying it un- 
doubtedly is, if it is to be understood, as some have con- 
tended in all its rigor. But it is not easy to conceive why 
WG are to be bound down to the literal meaning in this 
particular passage of Scripture, when in several others 
of the same nature and to the full as strongly express- 
ed, we depart from it without scruple. No man, t 
suppose, thinks himself obUged to '' give (without dis- 
'* tinction or exception) to every one that asks him ; 
" to pluck out his right eye, or cut off his right arm ; 
" to offer his coat to him that has taken away his 
** cloak ; or, when his enemy smites him on the right 
*' cheek, to turn to him the other alsof." Yet all these; 
things, if we regard the mere words only, are com- 
manded in the Gospel. We all hope and believe, that 
it is possible for a rich man to be saved, and for a great 
sinner to repent and amend his life. But looks into 

* John vi. CO. t Luke vi. 30. Matth. v. 29. 30. 39. 40. 



SERMON XV. 185 

the .Scriptures, and they tell you, *' that it is easier for 
*' a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for 
*' a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God ;" and 
that, if '' a leopard can change his spots, and an Ethi- 
" opian his skin, then may they also do good that are 
" accustomed to do evil*." These expressions, lit- 
erally taken, imply an absolute impossibility. Yet no 
interpreter, I believe, ever pretended to infer from 
them, any thing more than extreme difficulty. By what 
rule of criticism then are we obliged to understand the 
text more strictly than the passage just mentioned t It 
certainly stands as much in need of a hberal interpreta- 
tion, and is as jusUy entitled to it, as these or any 
other places of holy writ. Consider it only >vith a 
little attention. '' Whosoever shall keep the whole 
'' law, and yet offend in one point he is guilty of all." 
The meaning cannot possibly be, that he who offends 
in one point only, does by that means actually offend in 
^//points; for this is a palpable contradiction. Nor 
can it mean, that he who offends in one point onl}-, is in 
the eye of God equally guilty^ and of course will in a fu- 
ture state he equally punished^ with him who oflends in 
all points : for this is evidently false and unjust ; con< 
trary to every principle of reason and equity, to all our 
ideas of God's moral attributes, and to the whole tenor 
of the Gospel, which uniformly teaches a directly op- 
posite doctrine. It is therefore not only allowable, it 
is absolutely necessary, to understand the proposition 
in the text with some qualification. The only ques- 
tion is, what this qualification shall be. It is a ques- 
tion certainly of the utmost importance, and well wor- 
thy our most serious attention. It is not a matter of 
nice, and curious, and unprofitable speculation. It is 
a point in which we are all most deeply interested, and 
the decision of it must be of great moment to every 
moral agent, who thinks himself bound by the pre- 
cepts, or looks forward to the rewards of the Gospel. 

The common interpretation of the text is this. All 
the laws of the Christian Revelation are founded upon 

* Matrh. xlx. 24. Jer. xiii.. 23. 



186 SERMON XV. 

one and the satne authority of God. Therefore, ^vcrf 
offence agahist any of those laws is a contempt of the 
authority upon which they all depend, and consequent- 
ly every ac^t of disobedience is a breach of the whole 
law, because subversive of that authority on'^hichthe 
whole law stands. 

But to this interpretation it has been observed that 
there is one insuperable objection. It is evidently lia- 
ble to all the difficulties of the stoical paradox, that all 
offences are equal. For if the guilt of sin depends not 
upon the nature and circumstances of the sinful action^ 
but upon the authority of the lawgiver, then every siA 
being an offence against the same authority is of the 
same guilt and heinousness, and consequently will be 
subject to the same degree of punishment in a future 
stiite : which is dearly repugnant to every idea of equi- 
ty and justice, and (as we shall see hereafter) to the ex- 
press declarations of holy writ. We must thei^fore 
look to some other explanation of this confessedly diffi ~ 
<:u It passage more consonant to reason and to Scripture o 

Now the most probable way of arriving at the true 
^isense of it, is, I conceive, to take into consideration the 
whole of the context, the persons to whom the Apos- 
tle's admonition is addressed, the particular object he 
had in view, and the particular doctrine which that ob- 
ject required him to establish. 

The persons to whom this Epistle of St^ James i;vas 
addressed, were, as he himself tells us, tbe twelve mtes 
that ivere scattered- ah'oad^ ; that is, to those w^ho had 
been converted from Judaism to Christianity, and who 
€>f conrse still retained several of their old Judaical pre- 
judices. 

Some of these Jewish Christians had, it seems, been 
-guilty of making very invidious and grating distinc- 
tions between the rich and the poor in their religious 
assemblies ; had treated the former with the most flat- 
tering marks of respect, and the latter with harshness 
and contempt. For this the Apostle in the verses pre- 
ceding the text, very severely reproves them, upbraids 

* James i. 1. , : 



SERMON XV. isr 

them with the gross partiality they had shown on this 
occasion, and tells them, that however trivial this sort 
of injustice might appear to diem, it was in fact a very 
serious offence, because it was a breach of the great 
evangelical law of charity, which forbids every kind of 
insult or injury to our poorer brethren*. *' If, says he 
you fulfil the royal la%) according to the Scripture, (that 
is, the law which says, then shah lovp thy neighbor as 
thyself J ^ ye do w^U^ but if ye have respect of persons, 
ve commit sin, and are convinced of the law as trans- 
gressors, transgressors of the great royal law of Chris- 
tian charity or universal love. To this the Jewish 
convert would have an answer ready, founded on a re- 
ceived maxim, of his former religion. For the Jews 
entertained an idea that the reason w^hy God gave them 
so many commandments was, that by keeping any one 
^f them they might be saved. This therefore they 
would urge to the Apostk in their own defence, and 
would say — '' Admitting that we have offended against 
the law of Christ in one instance, yet as we have ob- 
served it in another of great importance, we shall still 
be entitled to the pardon of our sins, and the rewards of 
our virtue in a future state." A doctrine so false and 
pernicious as this, St. James would of course most 
strenuously oppose, and would naturally express his 
disapprobation of it in the strongest possible terms that 
language could supply. No, says he, so far is it from 
being true, that the observance of one single precept 
will save you, that the direct contrary doctrine is the 
true oPiC. '' For whosoever shall keep the whole law, 
and yet offend in one point he is guilty of all.' ^ This is 
undoubtedly a very strong expression, but the peculiar 
circumstances of the case called for it ; and it must be 
understood, like many other concise and proverbial 

* St. Au&tin confines the Apostle's meaning entirely and cxduslvely to of- 
fences against this great important law of Christian charity, which both 
Sm:. James and St. Paul say w the fulfilling of the law. 

Plenirudo legis est charltas, ac per hoc qui totam legem servaverit si in 
uno offenderic'fit omnium reus, quia contra charitatem facit undo tota lex pen- 
det. August, op, torn. ii. Ep. 29. ad Hicronymum. Bishop Sherlock 
tah.es up the same idea, and dilates upon it witii g^rcat ingenuity. — pise. y. 
i. D. 13. 



188 SERMON XV. 

maxims of the same sort, with considerable abatements 
and allowanees for the peculiar idioms and phraseology 
of the times and the countries where it was used, and 
wdth a due consideration also of the occasion which 
drew it forth, and of the specific object which the speak- 
er had in view. Now his object evidently was to con- 
vince the Jewish Christian with whom he was arguing, 
that he had violated in one material instance, the great 
royal law of charity ; that this w as a very heinous of- 
fence, and that while he was guilty of this offence, his 
observance of the law in other respects would avail him 
nothing. But in order to convince him of this, he was 
not obliged to go to the length of asserting, that who- 
ever offended in one point was in fact guilty of offend- 
ing in all points, and would of course be punished here- 
after with the same severity as those who had actually of- 
fended in all points. This was pushing his argument 
much further than was necessary for his purpose. All 
he had to prove ^vas, that whoever violated the divine 
law in any one important point, was guilty of a great 
sin, and if that sin was not done away by sincere re- 
pentance, and reliance on the merits of Christ, he 
w^ould assuredly suffer the punishment due to that sin 
in a future state, notwithstanding his obedience to the 
raw in ail other instances. This was the only doctrine 
which he was called upon and which he meant to es- 
tablish ; and in fact it is the doctrine which he does es- 
tablish in the verse immediately following the text, 
which clearly explains the meaning of the text itself, 
and by the illative particle for^ was evidently intended 
to explain it. For, (says he,) He that said, do not 
commit adultery, said also, do not kill: novv% if thou 
commit no adultery, yet if thou kill, thou art become a 
transgressor of the lanv. This is all that he asserts. 
But if it had been his intention to prove that he who 
offended in one point, was, strictly speaking, guilty of 
offending in all points, his conclusion would have been 
very different ; it would have been this. If thou com- 
mit no adultery, yet if thou kill, thou art become a trans-^ 
gressor of the wihole law, in CDery branch of it. But he 



SERMON XV. 189 

says no such thing;. He says only, tbou art become a 
transgressor of the laiv ; and must consequently expect 
the punishment due to that transgression, notwithstand- 
ing thy observance of it in other respects. And as this 
verse must in all fair construction be considered as a 
comment on the text, it clearly ascertains the meaning 
of it to be what is here stated, and nothing more.* 

From this examination and elucidation of the pas- 
sage before us, the following conclusions may be drawn. 

First, that the offences which the Apostle had in Tiew 
throughout the whole of his reasoning, and of which he 
speaks in the text, were offences against some impor- 
tant branch of the evangelical law, such as that of 
Christian charity, for that is the very instance which he 
himself spccifiesf. 

2d. The offences he alludes to are not casual trans- 
gressions arising from. ignorance, inadvertence, sur- 
prize, or mere human infirmity, but wilful and pre- 
sumptuous sins habitually induigedj. For that viola- 
lation of Christian charity with which St. James char- 

*The truth of the interpretation here gVen, receives great conSrmation 
from some remarks lately communicated to me by a very learned and in- 
genious friend of mine. He observes, that the concluding clauses of the 
S*th, 10th, and 11th verses of the 2d Chapter of St. James, (which we 
have been here considering) must necessarily be considered as equivalent to 
each other. These three verses are as fellows : 

V. 9. If ye have respect of persons, ye commit sin, and are convinced of 

the law as transgressors. 
V. 10. For, whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one 

point, he is guilty of all. 
V. 11. For, he that said. Do not commit adultery, said also, Do not 
kill. Now if thou commit no adultery, yet if thou kill, thou art 
become a transgressor of the law. 
To every one that considers these three verses attentively, as connected 
■with each other, and particularly the force of the illative particle ^or, in the 
two last, it will be evident that the 10th is meant to prove the truth of the 
9th, and the 11th of the 10th. But the proof entirely fails, and the 10th and 
11th verses are left whhout meaning, unless the clauses in each verse, which 
are printed in italics, were intended to convey precisely the same idea. If 
this be admitted, the sense affixed to the text, in this discourse, is fully es- 
tablished. 

t Hoc vuU Jacobus.^Si quis cbservato reliquo Evangelio prKceptum unum 
in re mogni momerti negligat (quale est prxceptum caritatis quo proximunn 
nocere vetamur) perinde esse ac si alia etiam neglecta esseut. Le Clirc. in Loc^ 
Offendat in uno ; nempe eorum quibus poena capitalis const ituta est. 

Grotivs. 
I Seeker's Sermons, vol. vii. s. 3. p. 45, 



190 SERMON XV. 

ges the J'ewish eotkverts appears to have been their con- 
stant practice. 

^(L That ahhoiigh he who offends in one i^oint will 
|iot be ckemed equally guilty, or be subject to equal 
punishment with him who offends in all points ; yet 
Atilithe eonsequences of indulging himself even in one 
favorite sin will; be sufficiently dreadful to deter him 
from such a practice, and to induce him without delay 
to repent and reform. If he does not, he will in some 
m0.erial respects experience tJae same conseqviences, 
and be treated in the same manner as if he had beeri 
acturally guilty of offending in all points. 

For in the first place, he will be excluded from those 
glorious rewards hejeafter, which, through the merits 
of our Redeemer, are promised to those that to the best 
of their power pay a uniform obedience to all the laws 
of Christ. The gates of heaven are shut against every 
habitual and unexpiated sin. He v/ho lives and dies 
in the constant commission of any one presumptuous 
sin, shall have no more title to a future recompence 
than if he had been guilty of every sin ; and in this 
sense, by offending in one point, he may not improper- 
ly be said to be guilty of all ; for the consequence to 
him with i^gard to future happiness, will be the same 
as if he actually had been so. 

In the n.ext place^ he who is wilfully and habitually 
guilty of any one presumptuous sin will be certainly 
doomed to some degree of future punishment, as if he 
had transgressed every divine command instead of one. 
The Scriptures denounce tribulation and anguish 
4}gainst every soul of man that doeth eml^''. This indeed 
seems the natural consequence of being excluded from 
reward. For in our Lord's representation of the last 
judgment, there are but two classes into which all man- 
kind are divided, the wicked and the good, those who 
iire punished and those who are rewarded. Between 
these there does not appear to be any middle rank, any 
neutral set of beings, who are neither punished nor re- 
warded. The sheep are placed on the right hand,, and 

* Rom. ii. 9. 



SERMON XV. 19i 

the goa-ts on the left, but tve hear ijf none who have a 
station assigned them between both. They ^^ho do 
ilot " go away into life eternal," are ordered to depart 
into a state of everlasting punishment. And since the 
offender in one point, eannot be among tlie first, he 
must necessarily be among the last. In this then, as 
well as in the loss of heaven, he shares the late of hiift 
who is guilty of all. 

Thus far,' then, the partial and the universal sinner 
agree. They are both excluded from 1 litppit^ss : they 
are both sentenced to future punishment. But here the 
resemblance between them ceases, and the parallel must 
be pushed no further. Here begins the parting point, 
the line of separation, betv/een the tvv^o cases. Here that 
limitation of the text takes place, which common jus- 
tice and common sense require. Though the offender 
in one point, and the offender in all, are both doomed 
to punis^hment, yet it is by no means to equal punish- 
ment. It may be, and probably is, the same in kincl^ 
but it caunot possibly be the same in degree. We 
have every assurance which reason and Scripture can 
give, that the iuture sufferings of sinners will be exact- 
ly suited to their respective crimes. The Judge of all 
the earth will assuredly do right, and all the world shall 
see and acknowledge the perfect impartiality of his prb- 
eeedings. Proportionable rewards and punishments, 
are every where announced in the<3tospel in the clear- 
est and most explicit terms. We are tcjld, that *^ some 
*' shall be beaten with many stripes, and some ivith 
*' few^%" and that " it shall be more tolerable for cer* 
*' tain persons in the day of judgment than for othersf," 
who shall receive ^' a greater condemnation." Who- 
ever therefore thinks himself authorized by the text to 
go on from sin to sin, and to accumulate one cnmc 
upon anotlK^r, from a presumption that he shall not suf- 
fer more for offending in all points than for offending 
only in one ; and that, after the first deviation from vir- 
tue, every subsequent vice may be practised with im- 
punity, will find liimself most fatally deceived. As 

* Luke xii. 4, 48. f. Matt. x. U. 



.192 SERMON XV. 

sure as God is just, and the Gospel is true, so surely 
will the judgments of the last day be inflicted on all im- 
penitent offenders, not promiscuously and indiscrimi- 
nately, but in weight and measure precisely balancing 
their several demerits. And although from the text 
we may collect, that any one vice, habitually indulged, 
will as effectually exclude us from reward, and sub- 
ject us to punishment, as if we had been guilty of ei^ery 
vice ; yet the degrees of that punishment will be exact- 
ly proportioned to the number and the magnitude of 
the sins we have committed. 

That the sense here given to St. James' words is 
the true one, must, I think, be allowed by every one 
that will take the trouble of casting his eye on the chap- 
ter from whence the text is taken, and that which im- 
mediately precedes it. He will see that the apostle's 
reasoning, throughout a great part of these chapters, 
is directed against that most dangerous notion, which 
the heart of man has been at all times but too apt 
to entertain, and which the Jews more especially, car- 
ried to a most extravagant height, that unroersal holi- 
ness of life is not necessary to salvation ; that a partial 
obedience to the divine law is sufficient to secure both 
impunity and reward ; and, 'that many virtues \mll cover 
and excuse one favorite vice. This was the error which 
the apostle undertook to combat ; and in order to do 
this, it was not (as I have already observed) necessary 
for him to prove, that he who offends in one point is, 
literally and strictly speaking, guilty of all. This was 
going not only beyond all bounds of credibility and truth, 
but beyond every thing that this argument required. 
All that this naturally led him to prove was, that 7io im- 
penitent offender^ even though he offended in one point on- 
ly^ sho^dd either obtain revjard or escape punishment. 
Accordingly, it is this doctrine which he endeavors 
throughout the whole context to establish. It is this 
which he lays down with peculiar emphasis in the text ; 
it is this which he inculcates a few verses before, in 
words nearly as forcible as those in the text, and which 
will assist us in confirming the interpretation here giv- 



SERMON XV. 1D3 

en of it. The words I mean are these : ** If any man 
among you," says he, *' seem to be religious, and 
" bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, 
*-'- that man's religion is i^ain^J''^ Here, you see, is a 
specification of one particular point (that of habitual 
cDil- speaking I, in all the worst senses of that \^ ord) in 
which he supposes that a man, in other respects reli- 
gious and unblameable, ofFendsf. And what does he 
say of that man I Why, that his religion is ^uain^ is un- 
profitable, is useless to him, will in the last day avail him 
nothing, will neither entitle him to reward, nor exempt 
him from punishment. When therefore, within a few 
verses after this, he resumes the argument, and says 
" Whosoever shall keep the u hole law, and yet oftend 
" in one point, he is guilty of all," who can have any 
doubt that he means nothing more than to express, in 
stronger and more comprehensive terms, the very sam.e 
doctrine which he had just before laid down with re- 
gard to one particular case ? The clearness of the 
former passage reflects light on the obscurity of the lat- 
ter ; and Vvhen St. James says, ^'Whosoever shall 
*' keep the whole kuv, and yet offend in one point, he 
" is guiity of all^'''* it is exactly the same as if he had 
said, *' Wiiosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet 
*' ofiend in one point, that marfs religion is vain :" will 
be of no benefit to him in the great day of retribution. 
He yvill be as flir from obtaining either impunity or re- 
ward, as if he had been guilty of every sin instead of 
cnej. . 

The justness of this explanation vrill, I apprehend, 
appear in a still stronger light, if v.e try it (as all expla- 
nations of Scripture ought to be tried) by considering 
in one view the whole passage from whence the text is 

* James i. 26. \ See Benson in Loc. 

:j: There is a very ingenious conjecture of Baulacre's, in Wet- 
stein, on the text in question, James ii. 10. Instead of the com- 
mon reading, ysyon Trocrrai evo^e^, he proposes (with a very small 
variation) yeyon ^-ccvra? eve^oi : tliat is, he is undoubtedly guilty, he 
is clearly a transgressor of the law. Just as it is said. Acts xxviii. 
4. UiMTWi (pcnv? e^iv e u\6po;7ro^ aro'i " J\i'o doubt this man is a mur- 
" dersr." Couid thi^i emendation be established, it wouWcertain-. 

A a 



194 SERMON XV. 

taken, and then subjoining such a paraphrase of it as 
the rneaning here affixed to St. James' words requires. 
The entire context is as follows : 

*' If ye fulfil the royal law, according to the scripture, 

*' T^OU SHALT LOVE THY NEIGHBOR AS THY- 

" SELF, ye do well ; but if ye have respect to persons,. 
*' ye commit sin, and are convinced of the law as trans- 
" gressors. For whosoever shall keep the. 

'' WHOLE law, and YET OFFEND IN ONE POINT, 

^' HE IS GUILTY OF ALL. For lie that said, Do uot 
" commit adultery ,^ said also, Do not kill. Now, if 
" thou commit no adultery, yet if thou kill, thou art 
'^ become a transgressor of the law. So speak ye, and 
*' so doy m tliey that shall be judged by the law of lib- 
" erty. For he shall have judgment without mercy, 
*' that hath shevv^ed no mercy, and mercy rejoicetb 
*^ against judgment.'' 

If the principles advanced in this discourse be true, 
and the conclusions just, the sense of this very obscure- 
passage will be what is here subjoined. 

If you fulfil the great la w of l o v i n g your neigh- 
bor as yourselves, ( which , having been adopted ,. 
explained, and enforced by our spiritual sove- 
reign, Christ, and made one of the two great 
branches of his religion, may be justly called the roy- 
al law) ; if, I say, you fulfil this law in all its vari- 
ous parts, you do well. But if you show such an un- 
charitable respect of persons as I have specified above, 
you thereby violate that royal law, you commit a great 
sin, and must expect the punishment due to that sin. 
There is indeed, I know, a doctrine prevalent among 
you, which some of you may be apt to think will se- 
cure you from this punishment. You have been told 
by your Jewish instructors, not only that a life of vir- 

ly remove all difficulty. But it is not supported by any manu- 
script. And I doubt much whether the word evoxo? is ever used 
by any good writer, singly and absolutely to signify guilty. It i? 
generally found in construction v/ith some noun to which it has 
a reference, and by which its sense is determined. Thus it is 
eaid Matt. v. 21. £vo^o<; rr} aparti ; and, xxvi. 66. ey^x,^? Sxvxra ; and 
In Demosthenes, and other classical writers, svox<^ rot^ vofMa » Stc 



SERMON XV. 155 

tue in general will atone for the habitual practice of any 
single vice, bat, that, if you observed punctually any 
ont great precept of the law^ and violated all the rest, 
it should be well with you, and your days should be 
prolonged, and you should possess the earth*. You 
may therefore possibly flatter yourselves, that although 
you do perpetually transgress the great law of charity 
by an undue respect of persons, yet, on account of 
your obedience to the moral law in other instances, you 
will not only escape punishment, but obtain reward. 
But thi^ is a most dangerous and delusive notion. It 
is one of those old Judaical prejudices that still retain 
their hold upon your minds, where they have been 
=early and deeply impressed by the corrupt traditions 
and false glosses of your rabbinical interpreters of the 
law. But be not deceived. It is so far from being 
true, as you have been taught to think, that be 'vjho ob- 
ser'iies one great precept of the lazD^ obsevoes the %vhole^ 
that the very reverse of this is the truth. For I say 
unto you, that whosoever shall keep the wholc 

LAW, AND YET OFFEND IN ONE POINT, HE IS GUIL- 
TY OF a-l-l; SO far, I mean, guilty of all, that he 
shall be no more entitled either to impunity or to re- 
ward, than if he had transgressed in every point, in- 
stead of one. For you know very well, that "he 

*' WHO SAID, DO NOT COMMIT ADULTERY, SAIB 

'^ ALSO, DO NOT KILL." Evcry prcccpt of the law 
proceeds from the same divine lawgiver. If therefore 
■^^ you commit no adultery, yet if you kill," if you 
observe one command and break another, you rebel 
against that divine lawgiver, you |)lainly become a 
transgressor of his law in one instance, and must con- 
sequently suffer the punishment annexed to that trans- 
gression, notwithstanding the punctuality of your obe- 
dience in all other instances. This perhaps you will 
think a hard saying, and may have entertained hopes 
that you should experience more indulgent treatment 
under the law of the Gospel, which you have so of- 
ten heard emphatically styled the law of liberty. 

^ See Pocock on Hosea xiv. 2. p. 683 ; and Whitby on Jimes ii. IX. 



196 SERMON XV. 

And such, in many important senses, it certainly is. 
It has delivered you from the heavy yoke of ceremo- 
nial observances ; it has set you free from the " curse of 
*' the law, from the ministration of death, from the letter 
*' that killeth," and has called you into *' the glorious 
*' liberty of the children of God'^." ^* So speak ye, 
*' then, AND so do as they that shall undoubt- 

*' ediy BE JUDGED BY THE LAW OF LIBERTY." But 

mistake not the nature of this liberty. Do not hn- 
cy it to be a liberty of transgressing any precept which 
you find it difficult to observe. Though the Gospel 
has emancipated you from the slavery of the rinml law, 
yet it has not in the smallest degree released you from 
the obligations of the moral law. On the contrary, it 
confirms and establishes that law. Were it to allow, or 
even connive at, the indulgence of any one favorite 
passion, it would be a law, not of liberty, but of /f- 
centiousness. It will not therefore, it cannot, suffer 
the breach even of one single divine command to pass 
mipunished. He, consequently, *' shall have 

*' JUDGMENT WITHOUT MERCY, THAT HATH SHEW- 

** ED NO MERCY :" lie that transgresses the great law 
of mercy, or Christian charity, shall not, on account 
of his obedience in other respects, be exempted by the 
mercy of God from the punishment due to that offence. 
But if, on the contrary, he uses his best endeavors to 
fulfil eve^ry precept in the Gospel, and especially that 
most important one of mercy, or unhersal love, then 

shall " MERCY REJOICE AGAINST JUDGMENT :" llis 

casual transgressions and infirmities shall meet with 
mercy at the hand of his Almighty Judge ; and the 
same compassion shall at the last day be graciously ex- 
tended to him, which he himself has shev< n to his of- 
fending or his distressed fellow-creatures. 

* Gal. Jii. 13. 2 Cor. iii. 7. Rom. viii. 21. 



SERMON XVI. 



James, ii. 10. 

Whocoever shall keep the whole laxv^ and yet offend in one fioint^ he 
is guilty of all. 

IT has, I hope, been sufficiently proved, that the 
interpretation given of these words, in the prece- 
ding discourse, is not arbitrary and conjectural ; but 
grows out of the context and the occasion, and is con- 
formable to the the whole tenor of St. James' argu- 
ment, and the particular object he had in view. It 
makes no greater abatement in the apostle's expres- 
sion, than the peculiar ardor and energy of the Scrip- 
ture language, and the concise sententiousness of pro- 
verbial maxims, absolutely require ; no greater than 
is authorized by the soundest rules of criticism, and 
the practice of the soberest expositors in many similar 
instances. At the same time, it seems to stand clear 
of all the objections which have been usually urged 
against the text. It leaves no room to charge it with 
extravagant and undistinguishing severity, and the doc- 
trine it presents to us is confirmed by the whole tenor 
of holy writ. 

Every one in the least conversant with Scripture 
must know, that the rewards of Christianity are there 
promised to those only who, to the best of their pow- 
er, endeavor ** to stand perfect and complete in all the 
*' will of God*;" and that its punishments are de- 
nounced against every habitual sin of every kind, 

* Ccl. iv. 12. 



198 SERMON XVL 

wHiout any exception made in favor of tho^e who of- 
fend in one point only, and observe all the rest*. And 
as this is the universal language of Scripture, so is it 
perfectly conformable to every principle of reason, jus- 
tice, and equity. 

In regard to a future recompence, the case will not 
admit a doubt. Eternal life being the free and volun- 
tary gift of God, he may certainly give it on Vvhatever 
terms he thinks fit to prescribe. The terms he has 
prescribed are, faith in Christy and obedience to all his 
iaws. Whoever therefore does not comply with the 
terms required, can have no claim to the favor granted 
on those terms, and those only. Although the offend- 
er in one point may possibly go so far as to fiatter him- 
self that he shall not be punished for his offence, yet he 
can never surely expect to be rewarded for it. It would 
indeed be strange, if all who had only one favorite vice 
^<iuld be admitted to a state of felicity hereafter. For^ 
since different men are, by their different inclinations, led 
to transgress in different ways, it must by this means 
come to pass, that sinners of every denomination would 
find their way to heaven. And thus, instead of meet- 
ing there, a-s we are taught to expect, with " the spir- 
'^ its of just men made perfectf," and an illustrious as- 
assembly of saints and angels, we should find ourselves 
surrounded, in the very mansions of bliss, wdth such 
sort of company as we should be ashamed to be seen ia 
upon earth. 

Nothing therefore can be more undeniably reasona- 
1:Slc and just, than that the habitual transgressor of any- 
one divine command, should be excluded from future 
happiness. Yet still perhaps it may be thought hard, 
that he should be doomed to future misery* There is 
scarce any thing we are apt to think so reasonable, and 
so natural, as that a number of good qualities should 
atone for one bad habit, and shelter us from punish- 
fnent^ at least, if not entide us to reward. Yet why 
should we expect this from the Gospel dispensation, 
iVhen in the ordinary course of God's providence Vv'e 

* Rom. ii. 9. i Heb. .\ii. 23. 



SERMON XVL 199 

find it quite otherwise ? How often do we see, in the 
affairs of this world, not only that one habitual 'Dicey 
but that o?ie single nvrajig action, will, in spite of a thou- 
sand excellencies, draw after it the ruin of fortune, 
fame, and every earthly comfort ? The case is the same 
in the ceconomy of nature, and the artificial insti- 
tutions of civil society. The health of the human 
body is the result of perfect order in every part. If 
the slightest member be indisposed, it disturbs the 
ease of the whole, and '^ every member suffers with it.'-* 
In the body politic a complete obedience to the laws 
is the only title to the protection of the state ; and a 
single crime, notvi'ithstanding all our other services, 
ivill render us obnoxious to its punishments. Add to 
tliis, that in all compacts and covenants which we enter 
into with one another, concerning our worldly affaii^s, 
the breach of any one essential condition vacates the 
covenant, and deprives ns of all the benefits we claiiWi 
imder it. Now, the tide we have to everlasting hap- 
pincss hereafter is founded solely, not on the precari- 
ous ground of our own imperfect services ; for " \nq 
.** are all unprofitable servants* ;" but on the sure basis 
of that efficacious covenant, which was made between 
God and us through the mediation of our Redeem- 
er, and which he sealed with his own blood upon the 
cross. All the precepts of the Gospel are so many con- 
ditions of this covenant, wliich we have promised, and 
which we are bound to observe, if therefore we wil- 
fully and habitually violate any one of these conditions, 
though we religiously observe all the rest, w^e evacuate 
the covenant, we forfeit our federal right (the only 
right we have) to the pardon of our sins, and conse- 
quently lay ourselves open again to the punishment 
that is naturally due to them. Where then can be the 
groun^l for complaining of severity in this respect ^ 
What pretence can we have for murmuring at our 
Judge, if he observes the same measures of justice 
in the next w^orld, which the general course of his pro- 
vidence in this gives us reason to expect ; if he ti'eate- 

* Liike xtIk 10. 



200 SERMON XVL 

us, in a future state, with no greater rigor than wc our -^ 
selves, in our most important concerns, think it equi- 
table and prudent to exercise towards each other ? 

But will not God then judge us in mercy ? Will he 
have no compassion on human infirmity ? Will he be 
extreme to mark and to punish every thing that is done 
amiss, notwithstanding the punctuality of our obedience 
in all other respects ? 

That God will judge us in mercy there can be no 
doubt ; . what, alas ! w^ould become of the very best of 
us,if he did not ? But that he wWl suffer his mercy to 
annihilate his justice, by allowing any one of his laws 
to be insulted with impunity, is what no reasonable 
man can possibly suppose. We need not be much 
afraid of leaving no room for the exercise of mercy. 
After ^ve have done all we can, after we have kept the 
whole law, without exception, with all the care and 
punctuality we arc able ; there will be still enough left 
for God to pardon, and the most perfect of us w ill 
have abundant occasion for the utmost display of his 
clemency towards us. In our observance of every law, 
there will be innumerable defects and errors, which 
are the proper objects of divine compassion. These 
he has promised to forgive, on our sincere repentance, 
for the sake and through the merits of Christ Jesus ; 
and on the same grounds we have good reason to hope 
that great allowance will be made for such failings and 
infirmities as we watch and strive and pray against, and 
persevere in opposing. But we must not expect the 
same mercy to be extended to any wilful and presump- 
tuous transgression, if habitually persisted in, without 
repentance and reformation. And even with regard to 
our best virtues, if they can, with all their own blem- 
ishes, obtain acceptance through the intercession of 
our Redeemer, they do full as much as we have any 
reason to expect from them. They have no supera- 
bundant merit of their own; and can therefore have 
none to spare for other purposes, to serve as a covering 
for some favorite sin. 



SERMON XVI. ^1 

The result then of the whole is, that the only sure 
ground of admission to heaven, and of security against 
future punishment, is reliance on the merits of our 
Redeemer, and an unreserved (though too often, God 
knows, imperfect) obedience to eiiery precept in the 
Gospel. There is indeed always oiie which we find iti 
more difficult to observe that the rest, and which foF 
that reason we are very desirous not to observe at atf« 
But if we are in earnest about our everlasting welfare, 
our obedience in this point also, however painful, is 
indispensably necessary. It is that cross which we arc 
ordered to take up when we are commanded to follow 
Christ. It is the yoke lie imposes upon us, tlie bur- 
den he requires us to bear. To decline this, is afi 
once to reject the terms of our salvation, and to for- 
feit all pretensions to divine favor. It is to no purpose 
to urge the exactness of our obedience in other instan- 
ces. Our good deeds can be no otherwise acceptable 
in the sight of God, than as they flow from a principle 
of love to him, and obedience to his laws, as revealed 
to us in the Gospel of his blessed Son. But if we 
constantly transgress these laws in any one important 
point, it is impossible that our observance of the rest 
should proceed from any religions motive. If such a 
motive influenced us in some points, it w^ould influence 
us in eiiery point, and would never allow us, in any in- 
stance, to persist in a direct opposition to the com- 
mands of the God we loved. The love of ourselves, 
the love of power, of praise, of pleasure, of gain, may 
in many cases lead us to virtue ; and it will be evident 
that we followed no worthier guides, if, when they 
lead us to vice, we follow them without reluctance, and 
are as ready to hreah any of God's laws at their sug- 
gestion, as to obsevoc them. 

Let us bring this matter home to our own bosoms, 
let us ju<!ge from our own sentiments and feelings on 
similar occasions. Should we think that man a sincere 
friend to us, who, Vv^here it coincided with his natural 
propensities, where it flattered his vanity or indulged 

Bb 



202 SERMON XVI. 

his pride, where it served his ambition or promoted 
his interest, would very readily show us any mark of 
kindness and regard ; but, where it thwarted any of 
these views, would most shamefully desert us, although 
in the utmost need of his assistance ? Or, should we 
think that servant worthy of his hire, and of our fa- 
vor, who, although in other points he behaved welly 
yet in one material part of his business, where his ser- 
vice was most necessary, and most acceptable to us, 
acted in direct opposition to our express orders ? Should 
we not call the one a deceitful, friend, and the other a 
worthless servant, and renounce them both, with the 
contempt and indignation they deserved ? And how 
then can we imagine that God will accept such a service 
at our hands, as the meanest man amongst us w^ould 
think an insult upon him I How can we suppose that 
he will be content with the leayings of our passions ; 
will be satisfied with our observance of those laws 
which Ave have not perhaps the least inclination or 
temptation to transgress ; and overlook our disobedi- 
ence in that only poiJit where we can show the sincerity 
of our attachment to him ; where our passions and our 
interests interfere with our duty, and strongly prompt 
us to rebel against our Maker ? 

*' Let then every one that names the name of Christ 
*,' depart from iniquity^-'' of every kind. Let him= 
'* eschew his own peculiar wickedness." Let him 
take a resolution of immediately repenting of and re- 
linquishing that favorite sin which does most easily be- 
set him ; and if his repentance is sincere, and his re- 
formation effectual, his past offences will for the sake, 
and through the merits of Christ (who came into the 
world for the very purpose of saving sin?2ers) be for- 
given and blotted out ; and he will be restored to the 
iavor of God, and received into the arms of his mercy* 
But if on the contrary he wilfully and obstinately per- 
sists through life in any one presumptuous and habitual 
sin, he will be as effectuaily excluded from reward, and 

* 2 Tim. ii. 14. 



SERMON XVI. 203 

stibjected to some degree of punishment, as if he had of- 
fended in all points instead of one. 

This is the true, the genuine doctrine of holy writ. 
The doctrine of the world, 1 know, is of a very differ- 
ent complexion ; and we have been favored with sys- 
tems of morality, and plans of education, of a much 
more compliant, and commodious, and indulgent tem- 
per^'^. The substance of them is comprized in a few 
words'; *' adulation to those we despise, courtesy to 
*' those we hate, connections without friendship, pro- 
*' fessions without meaning, good humor without be- 
" nevolence, good manners without morals, appear- 
*^ ances saved and realities sacrificed." These are the 
maxims which are now to enlighten and improve man- 
kind ; and as they come recommended viixh every ad- 
vantage that wit, and ease, and elegance of composition, 
can give them, there is but too much reason to appre- 
hend that a large part of the rising generation will 
receive these oracles with implicit faith, and consider 
their authority as sovereign and supreme in some of the 
most essential articles of moral conduct. The times did 
not seem to call for any new encouragements to licen- 
tiousness. But what else can be expected, when (as the 
prophet complains) '' men forsake the fountain of liv- 
'' ing water, and hew them out cisterns, broken cisterns, 
'•' that can hold no waterf ;" when, deserting the plain 
road of moral rectitude which Revelation sets before 
them, they strike out into devious and crooked paths, 
and form a fanciful system of their own, in which every 
thing is modelled exactly to their mind ; in which vi- 
c^s are transformed into virtues, and virtues into vices, 
just as it happens to suit their particular taste and con- 
venience ? Can there possibly be a more convincing 
proof of the utter inability of human wisdom, even in 
its most improved and exalted state, to undertake the 
direction of our moral behavior, and the absolute ne- 
cessity of light fi'om above to guide our steps aright, 

* The well-known letters, of a deceased nobleman to his son, were puj)- 
iibhed a few ijionths before this sennon was preached at St. Jarngs'. 
f Jeremiah ii. 13. t 



204 SERMON XVI. 

even in what we are pleased to call this tnVightmed 
age ? Can any thing more clearly show the ininite 
obligations we are under to Christianity, for taking 
this important business out of the hands of man, and 
placing it in the hands of God ; for marking out to us 
one straight mideviating line of conduct, and forbid- 
ding us, under the severest penalties, to turn aside 
from it *' to the riglit hand or to the left ?" Who does 
not now see the wisdom, the reasonableness, the utility 
of the doctrine in the text, that '* whosoever shall keep 
" the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is 
^* guilty of all ?" Who does not see, that to recede one 
tittle from ihe true meaning of this declaration, is to 
open a door for the admission of every imaginable in^ 
iquity ? When once we begin to question the necessi- 
ty of unhersal Jjoliness ; when once we begin to make 
laws for ourselves, and to determine peremptorily that 
this virtue is illiberal, and that impracticable, this vice 
a pardonable frailty, and that a necessary accomplish- 
ment, it is easy to perceive, that there must soon be 
an end of all distinction between right and wrong. 
If one man, for instance, thinks that adultery and hy- 
pocrisy are in certain circumstances, and on certain oc- 
casions allowable ; why may not another claim the like 
indulgence for anger, pride, ambition, or revenge, and 
rank them also in the number of genteel and reputable 
^'ices ? There is, in fact, hardly a crime in nature 
which has not somewhere or other a patron and de- 
fender. And thus, if every man, instead of eschewing 
his own peculiar wickedness, is to have an exemption 
granted him from every restraint which he happens to 
think inconvenient, the duties of religion will be all 
picked out of the gospel one by one, till there is not 
a single virtue left, which may not be evaded whene- 
ver we think fit. 

This instance then, among a thousand others, may 
serve to convince us, how dangerous it would be to al- 
low the smallest latitude in the terms and measures of 
obedience ; and how necessary it is for those^ who are 



SERiMON XV[. 205 

(he ap|X)intcd guardians ofEVANCELicAL truth, to 
watch ov€r it with unreniitted vigilance ; and on no 
account to lower the sublime tone of Gospel morali- 
ty, in order to make it sjx'ak a softer language, and 
accommodate it to the fanciful conceits and corrupt 
casuistry of worldly wisdom. Men may undoubtedly 
act by whatever rule they please ; hut the rule by 
which they will be judged is that of the gosj:>el ; and 
all that %ve can do is to lay it plainly and fairly before 
them, and warn them loudly of the danger of following 
any other guide. They may fancy, if they will, that 
improved and elevated minds are above mdgar re- 
straints ; that what is vice in a low station, by ascend- 
ing into a superior region, leaves its dregs behind, and 
is sublimated into virtue ; that dissimulation, though 
a base coin, is a necessary one* ; and that the grossest 
irregularities, when they help to embellish our man- 
ners, are not vices of the heart, but little infirmities of 
youth, which are sure to meet with indulgence here, 
and impunity hereafter. If men of ingenuity chuse to 
amuse themselves with such imaginations as these ; 
and if others think it prudent to take thera for their 
guide rather than God^ they must do it at their own 
peril. But they who pretend to any principle, or any 
religion, will do well to remember, that He who has 
the sole right of regulating our conduct, and v/ho alone 
can inform us on what terms he will receive or reject 
us for ever. He has prescribed to us a very different 
course of behavior. He requires from us, not merely 
the appearance^ but the reality ; not the '' form only, 
"but the power of godliness." He holds out the same 
rule of life to high and low, to rich and poor : *' He re- 
'* gardeth not the persons of men ;" and if he has gi- 
ven any one human being " a licence to sin," let that 
licence be produced. He commands us not to con- 
form to a corrupt world, not to flatter and dissemble^ 
in order to please and deceive all mankind, but, "in 

* A heathen moralist was, however, it seems of a different opinion. Ex 
omni vita simulatio Sc dissimulatio tollenda est, Cic. De Off. I. iij. c. 15, 



206 SERMON XVL 

'^ SIMPLICITY AND GODLY SINCERITY tO Iiave OUf 

'' conversation in the worlds." What ^c>;?2<? call par- 
donable infirmities, He calls vices of the heart ; and 
plainly tells us that ry^n' (^1?/?/^ the man\. And to cut 
off all hopes of indulgence to any favorite sin. even 
though surrounded with a constellation of virtues, he 
declares, that '' whosoever shall keep the whole law, 
^* and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of ail." 

*2Cor. i. 15. t Matth. XV. I§. 



SERMON XVII. 



Luke iv. 17, 18, 19, 20. 

*fnd there ivas delivered unto him the book of the iirofihet Esaias :■ 
and when he had aliened the book^ he found the place where it 
was written^ 

The spirit of the Lord is upon me^ because he hath anointed me to 
preach the Gospel to the poor ; he hath sent me to heal tlie bro- 
ken-hearted^ to preach delirverance to the captives^ and re- 
covering of sight to the blind ; to set at liberty them that art 
bruised, 

To preach the acceptable year of the Lord. 

yi?2d he closed the book, and he gave it again to the hrhiister, and saS 
down ; and the eyes rf all them that were in the synagogue were 
fastened on him, 

IN this manner did our gracious Redeemer open his 
divine commission ; widi a disrnitv and a tender- 
ness, both of language and of sentiment, which we 
shall in vain look for in any other public teacher of reli- 
gion. We may easily conceive that after he had ut- 
tered this noble prophecy, *' the eyes of all them that 
" Vv'ere in the synagogue" would be "fastened on him." 
** They all immediately bare him witness, and wonder- 
*' ed at the gracious words that proceeded out of his 
*' mouth^." This admiration indeed of theirs soon 
gave way to far other emotions, and, in consequence 
of the just reproof they received from him, for their 
perverse and senseless prepossessions against him 
*"' they v.erc filled with wrath, and thrust him out of 

* Luke iv. 20, 23. 



208 SERMON XVII. 

their city^." But we, who have no such prejudices 
and passions as theirs to mislead our judgments and 
overpower our natural feeUngs, must necessaril}' be 
filled with love and reverence towards him, when we 
read that sublime and affecting declaration of his in- 
tentions, v/hich is conveyed in the words of the text. 
We cannot but perceive that '* the Spirit of the Lord 
*' was indeed upon him," and that he was in truth the 
person to whom the passage in Isaiah, which he re- 
cited, evidently referred. We know that our Lord 
most completely verified the words of the prophet, 
both in their literal and their spiritual meaning. He 
preached the Gospel to the poor in fortune, the poor 
in spirit, and the poor in religious knowledge. He 
healed the broken-hearted ; he raised and comforted 
those that were oppressed with calamity, with disease, 
and with sin. To him that was bowed down, with in- 
firmity either of body or of soul, his language was, 
** Son, be of good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee ; 
•' go in peace, and sin no more." " He strengthened 
" the weak hands, and confirmed the feeble knees ; 
*' he said to them that were of a fearful heart, Be 
*' strong, fear not, behold your God will come. He 
" will come, and save youf." *' He gave sight also to 
** the blind ;" he removed the film from the mental, as 
well as from the corporeal eye ; and to those that " sat 
** in darkness, and in the shadow of death," he dis- 
closed at once the cheerful light of day, and the still 
more glorious light of divine truth. ^' To the cap- 
'* tives," to them that vv'ere *' bruised, he preached 
^' deliverance." He preached a doctrine which not 
only released from spiritual bondage tlios^ that had 
been enthralled and led captive by their sins, but so sof- 
tened and subdued the most ferocious minds, and dif- 
fused throughout the earth such a spirit of mildness, 
gentleness, mercy, and humanity, that the heavy 
chains of personal slavery were gradually broken in 
most parts of the Christian world ; and they that had 

* Luke iv. 28, 29. f Isaiah xxxv. 3, 4. 



SERMON XVIL 209 

been for so many ages bruised by the cruel and oppres- 
sive hand of pagan masters, were at length set free. 

Thus did our blessed Lord accomplish what the pro- 
phet foretold, and what he, by the inspiration of that 
" spirit w-hich was upon him," so explicitly applied 
to himself. It is therefore evidently incumbent on 
those who are the appointed teachers of his religion, and 
more especially on that venerable society, w4iose 
'professed design and province is the propagation 
OF HIS GOSPEL IN FOREIGN PARTS, to trcad as near- 
ly as they can in the steps of their heavenly Master, and 
carry on, to the best of their abilities, that gracious and 
benevolent work which he begun. It was plainly one 
great purpose of his life to relieve misery of ever kind, 
and under every shape ; and his chief attention was, 
agreeably to his declaration in the text, bestowed on 
the niost indigent^ the most ignorant, the most help- 
less, and the most wretched of the human species. 
Too many there are, God knows, in every quarter of 
the unenlightened w^orld, who stand in need of our 
compassionate assistance towards the relief of their 
wants, both temporal and spiritual ; and it is a most 
melancholy consideration, that so large a part of the 
habitable globe continues still unacquainted with the 
blessings of true religion. Bul there is one class of 
our fellow-creatures which has sqch distinguished 
pre-eminence in misefy of almost every kind, and 
which so exactly corresponds to all that variety of 
Wretchedness enumerated in the text, that one would 
almost be tempted to think our Saviour actually allu- 
ded to them, and had their case among the other great 
events of futurity, in his eye. For when he speaks 
of the *' poor, the broken-hearted, the blind, the cap- 
*' tive, the bruised," who can forbear thinking on that 
unhappy race of beings j the African Slaves 
in our West Indian Coloiues ? If there are any hu- 
man creatures in the world who concentrate in them- 
selves every species of evil here enumerated, who are 
iit once poor, and broken-hearted, and blind, and cap- 
tive, and bruised, our Nerj;ro- slaves are bevond all 

C c 



2l6 SERMON XVIL 

comparison those creatures. Even in a literal sense^ 
this description is in several circumstances a just pic- 
ture of their situation ; but, in a figurative and spiritual 
meaning, it may, with the strictest truth, be applied to 
them. They are in general considered as mere ma- 
chines and instruments to work with, as having neither 
understandings to be cultivated nor souls to be saved. 
To the greater part, not so much as the mere cere- 
inony of baptism is administered ; and scarce any en- 
joy sufficient leisure or assistance for a proper degree 
of instruction in the doctrines and the duties of reli- 
gion. Sunday is indeed a day which they are generally 
indulged with for their own use ; but they spend it 
eommonly, not in attending public worship, or i'e- 
Ceiving private instruction, but in visiting and traf- 
ficking with eac hother, or in cultivating their own little 
allotments of land, for which, except in one island, that 
ef Jamaica, they have seldom any other time allowed 
them. * Thus it comes to pass, that in the British islands 
alone there are upwardsof four hundred tliousand human 
beingsf, of whom much the greatest part live most liter- 
ally without God in the world ; without any knowledge 
of a Creator or Redeemer ; xv^hout any one principle 
either of natural or revealed religion ; without the idea 
of one moral duty, except that of performing their dai- 
ly task, and escaping the scourge that constantly hangs^ 
over them. The consequence is, that they are hea- 
thens, not only in their hearts, but in their lives, and 
knowing no distinction between vice and virtue, they 
give themselves up freely to the grossest immoralities^ 
without so much as being conscious that they are doing 
wrong J. 

* There is even a market held in the island on Sundays, to which the 
slaves resort ; a profanation of the Lord's Day as needless as it is irrever- 
ent. See Long's Hist, of Jamaica, voU ii. p. 491, 492. 

+ The number of slaves in the sevSral West India islands now in our 
possession, or restored to «s by the treaty of the present year 1783, were, 
a short time before the war, said to be about 410,000. The Negroes in the 
French islands were, in 1777, computed at 386,500. The Abbe Raynal 
states the whole number of African slaves in America and the West Indian 
islands at 1,400,000. Hist. Phil. vol. iy. p. 15. 

\ We are informed, on good authority, that the Negroes are allowed an- 
unlimited indulgence in those vices which are expressly reprobated by th«J 
Ghristian doctrine. Long^'s Hist, of ya-inaicut. vol, ii. p, 409, 414, 424. 



SERMON XVII. 2X1 

A condition such as this, in which so many thou- 
sands of our unoffending fellow- creatures are involved, 
cannot but excite the compassion of every feeling 
heart ;' and it must be matter of no small surprize, and 
of the deepest concern, that, excepting a few instances, 
which deserve the highest praise, no effectual means 
have yet been put in practice, either on the part of 
those individuals who are most nearly interested in the 
welfare of these poor wretches, or of the government 
under which they live, to rescue them out of this spir- 
itual captivity, so much w^orsc than even that temporal 
one (heavy as it is) to which they are condemned. Al- 
mos:-t the only considerable attempts that have been 
made to deliver them from this deplorable state of ig- 
norance, have been made by this venerable Society ; 
which has had this object, among others, constandy in 
view, and in the prosecution of it has not been sparing 
..either of labor or expense. But it must be owne4 
th^t our endeavors have not hitherto been attended 
with the desired success. This, however, has been own- 
ing, not to what some are wdlling to suppose, an im- 
possibility in the nature of the thing itself ; not to any 
absolute incapacity in the Africans to receive or retain 
religious knowledge (a pretence contradicted by the 
best testimony, and by repeated experience) but to 
.accidental, and, I trust, siinnoimtable causes : to the 
prejudices formerly entertained by many of the plan- 
ters against tlie instruction and conversion of their 
slaves ; to the want which the latter have experienced 
of sufficient time and opportunity for this purpose ; to 
the abject, depressed, degraded, uncivilized, unbe- 
frieiided, immoral state, in wliich the Negroes have 
been so long suffered to remain ; to the very little at- 
tention paid to them on the part of government ; to 
the almost total want of laus to protect and encourage 
them, and to soften, in some degree, the rigors of their 
condition^ ; to the necessity, in short, which the So- 

* The regulations that have been formerly made in the British West India isl* 
ands, respecting the slaves, breathe a spirit of extreme severity and rigoi*. 
There are laws in abundance to punish, but scarce any to protect, them. 
jEvea the wilful murder of a Negro, from ivantonness {as the law expresses 



21^ SERMON XVII. 

ciety itself has hitherto been under of listening to other 
claims of a very pressing and important nature ; and 
of employing a large share of itsTund in disseminating 
religious knowledge, and providing for the mainte- 
nance of public worship in other parts of his niajes- 
ty's dominions, where its assistance was much wanted, 
and most earnestly and repeatedly solicited. 

These, I apprehend, are the principal obstacles which 
have hitherto retarded the general conversion of the 
Negroes. But what then are we to do ? Are we ut- 
terly to abandon this great concern, to consider it as a 
desperate, impracticable, visionary project, to renounce 
all hopes of ever making any effectual progress in it, 
and, of course, to consign over several hundred thou- 
sands of our fellow-creatures to the grossest ignorance, 
irreligion, and heathenism for ever ? It is impossible 
that any such idea should ever enter into our minds. 
On the contrary, we shall certainly consider the failure 
of our former attempts as a strong and powerful call 
upon us to redouble our diligence and activity in this 
most laudable undertaking ; and the impediments we 
have hitherto met with, far from extinguishing or aba- 
ting our honest seal, will on the contrary, animate us; 
with fresh ardor, and put us upon trying rieiv expe- 
f/f^;2^^ to surmount them. If such be our resplution, 
there are the strongest reasons to believe that our 
generous: effbrts will finally be crowned with success. 
There are at present several favorable circumstances, 
\vhich may well inspire us with hopes of a more pros- 
perous issue to our pioiis labors. Mnny excellent 
tracts have within these few years been published, 
both in this and other countries, on the subject of Ne- 
gro-slavery ; and a still more excellent one will, I hope, 
soon see the light"^- ; all which can hardly fail by de- 

jt) and hloody-Trdndedness, is, inBarbadoes, punished only by a small pecim*;uy 
fine. Some undoubtedly meet with kind and indulgent masters, whose. nat- 
ural humanity stands in the place of laws ; but in general it is to be feared 
they feel most sensibly the want of LEGAL, protection. 

* Mr. Ramsay's Esmy on the Treatment of the Negro Slaves in the Brifi^b 
West India Islands. This was one of the first Tracts on the subject, which 
excited the attention of the public^ and contributed perhaps more than at}}r 
other to the parliamentary enquiry into the nature of the slave-trade, which 



SERMON XVII. 213 

grees to remove the prejudices (if any still remain) of 
the West Indian planters, and excite the attention of 
Government to this most important object ; which 
must satisfy the former that it is not only their duty 
but their interest to consult a little more both the pre- 
sent comfort and the future salvation of their slaves : 
and must convince the latter that it highly becomes 
the wisdom of the provincial legislatures to give some 
countenance to the wretched Africans who are under 
their power, and to enact, as the French government 
has long since done, a code of laws for their pro- 
tection, their security, their encouragement, their hn- 
provcment, and their conversion^. In fact, several 
of the most wealthy and most w^orthy proprietors of 
West India estates, resident as well in this country as 

a few years afterwards took place. With the author of it, Mr. Ramsay, I 
was well acquainted, having been forseveral years a near neighbor to him in 
Kent. And I think it an act of justice, due to his worth and his great ex- 
ertions, to say, that he was a man of distinguished pietey, integrity, hu- 
manity, and veracity. But his work raised up against him such a host of 
enemies, and such a torrent of obloquy and invective poured in upon him 
from every quarter, that he sunk under the storm which assailed him, and' 
became, in some degree at least, a victim to the important contest in which 
he had so warmly engaged. It was, however, a source of inexpressible 
comfort and satisfaction to him, in his last moments, that he had so stren- 
uously exerted himself in such a cause. Feb. '28, 1803. 

• The system of la^vs here alluded to, is called the codk noik, and was 
first published in the year 1685. That copy of it which I have seen was 
printed at Paris in 12mo. 1767. It contains many admirable regulations re- 
specting the diet, the clothing, the treatment, the government, the disci- 
pline, the morals, and the rehgion of the Negroes. Amongst other things, 
it obliges every planter to have his Negroes baptized, and properly instructed 
in the doctrines and duties of Christianity. It allows the slaves for these 
purposes, and for days of rest, not only every Sunday, but every festival iisic- 
ally observed by the Jiomis.b church. It does not j)ermit any market to be 
held on Sundays or holydays. It prohibits, under severe penalties, all mas- 
ters and managers from corrupting their female slaves. It does not allow 
the Negro husband, wife, and infant children, to be sold separately. It 
obliges the owners to maintain their old, infirm, and decrepid slaves. It 
forbids them the use of torture, or of immoderate and inhuman punish- 
i-nents. If the Negroes are not fed and clothed as the laws prescribe, or if 
they are in any respct cruelly treated, they may apply to the Prociireur, who 
is obliged by his office to protect and redress them. Such is the humane at- 
tention of the French nation to their slaves. Many excellent laws have also 
been made in favor of the Indians employed by the Spaniards in South 
America. And besides these, every district of Indians has a protector ; 
clergymen, paid by government, are appointed to instruct them ; and the 
principal ecclesiastics are empowered to inform and admonish the civil ma- 
gistrates, if any Indians are deprived of their just rights. The Negroes 
live there not only in ease but in luxury. See Robertson's History of Atner'tca^ 
}st edit. 4to. vol. ii. p. 350, o6S, 374, cill , 493. 



214 SERMON XVII. 

in the Islands, have of late begun to see this matter m 
the right point of view. They have given repeated 
injunctions to their agents and managers, both to mit- 
igate the hardships and promote the instruction of their 
Negroes ; and the planters in general are no longer 
alarmed with an imagination which was formerly en- 
tertained, that when their Negroes become Christians, 
they cease to be slaves ; and that in proportion as they 
■are more religious, they grow less fiiithful, active, and 
industrious. i\dd to this, tliat the last war, amidst a 
multitude of evils such as v»'ar necessarily produces, 
has been attended with one accidental effect, which 
whatever may be thought of it in a commercial view^ 
I do not scruple, in a religious one, to call a blessing. 
It has very greatly impeded and diminished that oppro- 
brious traffic, in which this country has for a long time 
taken the lead, tbe slave'- track on tbc coast of Africa^ 
The consequence of this has been that several of the 
West India planters hav€ been induced to treat their 
slaves, especially the females and their children, with 
more than ordinary tenderness and irKluigence, in order 
to supply their want of Negroes by their own natural 
"population.^ Should thise wise and humane practice 
become an established and universal custom, it would 
■^exceedingly facilitate the work both of instruction and 
-conversion, by furnishing a succession of young Ne- 
,gro catechumens, well acquainted widi the English 
language, familiarised to the Engligh custom.s, and 
imcorrupted by those heathenish principles and savage 
manners with v/hich the constant importation of fresh 

* There C£ui be little doubt but that this might easily be effected by proper 
care and -attention, by granting particular privileges, rewards, and even free- 
<lom, to the mothers of large families ; by allowing more ease and better 
aionrishment to the Negroes ; -by impressing early and strongly upon thek 
3nrnds the belief and the practice of the Christian religion, which can alone 
Srestrain that unbounded aiibd promiscuous commerce v/ith their women, which 
-:(by the acknowledgment of the planters themselves) is the principal ob- 
-Btacle to their natural increase ; and by a variety of other expedients, Vvhick 
huiTianity and sound policy would naturally dictate. And although this 
-jnight be attended perhaps at first with some trifling expense, and witk 
.-some small abatement of present exertion ; yet all this would be amply 
over]3aid by the prodigious savings of what is usually expended in the pur- 
-<:haBe of fresh slaves, and by the great and acknov.^ledged superiority of 
-l»ome-bom Negroes to those import-ed from Africa. Sc<: Lopg's liktory^ 
^awMica, p. 435, 437, 439. 



SERMON XVII. 215 

slaves from Africa has never failed to infect tliem, and 
to obliterate in a few weeks all those sentiments of 
morality and religion which it had been the work of 
years to impress upon their minds. 

These surely are considerations whicli afford the 
Society much fairer prospects of success than it has ev» 
er yet had. The harvest in this quarter promises to 
be much more plenteous than we have hitherto found 
it, and may well encourage us to bestov/ more of our at- 
tention upon it, and to send more laborers into it.— • 
Whenever this resolution is taken, we shall undoubt- 
edly think it necessary and right to begin with the Ne- 
groes on our trust-estates in Barbadoes* ; to try how 
far the work of conversion can actually be caiTied, to 
put in practice every possible expedient, first to civil- 
ize, and then to make them, Vvhat they undoubtedly 
may be made, not merely nominal but real Christians. 
The Society has indeed always shewn a most laudable 
solicitude both for the temporal and eternal welfare of 
the slaves employed on their plantations. They have 
given the most positive and peremptory orders to their 
managers to treat them with the utmost tenderness ancj 
humanity. They have appointed a catechist for the 
sole purpose of instructing them in the doctrines and 
duties of Christianitv. Thev have taken care that 
their Negroes shall be regularly summoned to divine- 
worship, and enjoy, widiout interruption, the sa- 
cred rest they are entiUed to on the Lord's Day. For 
this purpose they have allowed them for their own use 
the afternoon also of the prcceding day ; and their jour- 
nals are full of the strongest and most earnest injunctions 
to their catechist to exert his utmost zeal in impress- 
ing a right sense of religion on the minds of their 
slaves ; a point which the Society declare in their let- 
ters that it is impossible for them ei^er to give upf* 
These, it must be owned, are wise and truly Christian 
regulations, and highly suitable to the character of this 
venerable Society. But it is gready to be doubted 

* Certain lands in Barbadoes, bequeathed to the Society by General Ccd«^ 
lliirigtoD ill trust for particular uses specified in his will. 

f See the Society's Journals, ir69. 



^16 SERMON XVII. 

whether these directions have always been punctual^ 
complied with in the degree and to the extent propo- 
sed ; or if they have, there is but too much reason to 
fear, that they have by no means fully answered the 
good intentions of the Society. The truth is, these 
are excellent beginnings, but tiiey are only beginnings of 
an effectual and vital conversion of the Negroes. A 
foundation is laid, but it must be laid, I apprehend, 
still broader and deeper before it will bear a super- 
structure of sufficient strength and solidity, '*and so 
*' fitly framed together as to grow into a holy temple 
" unto the Lord, and a permanent habitation of God 
" through the spirit*.'* It is, in short the clear and 
decided opinion of every man Vv'ho has considered the 
subject thoroughly^ and has had opportunities of ob^ 
serving and studying for a long course of years, the 
temper, the disposition, the manners, the capacities^ 
the treatment, and the condition of our Negro- slaves,- 
that in their present state of debasement and degrada- 
tion, sunk as they are below the level of the human spe- 
cies ; treated merely as animals doomed to labor ; cut 
off almost entirely from the protection of the state, and 
the advantages of social life, with scarce any substan- 
tial comforts and indulgences to cheer their spirits, ta 
excite their ambition, to encourage their hopes,' they 
are hardly capable of receiving any deep and lasting 
impressions of religion. In fact, a certain degree of 
improvement and civilization has been always found 
necessary to prepare the mind for the admission of the 
divine truths of Revelation : and, unless the soil is a 
little tilled and dressed, and meliorated by a proper 
course of cultivation, the good seed vviii scarce ever 
strike root in it, or at least take such firm hold upon 
It as to spring up with health and vigor, and " bring 
** forth fruit to perfection." If ever then we hope to 
make any considerable progress in our benevolent pur- 
pose of communicating to our Negroes the benefits 
and the blessings of religion, we must first give them 
some of the benefits and the blessino-s of socictv and of 

* Ephes. ii. 21, 22. 



SERMON XVII. 21? 

eivilized government. We must, as far as is possible^ 
attach them and their families inseparably to the soil ; 
must give them a little interest in it ; must indulge 
them with a few rights and privileges to be anxious 
for ; must secure them by fixed laws from injury and 
insult ; must inform their minds, correct their morals, 
accustom them to the restraints of legal marriage, to 
the care of a family and the comforts of domestic life ; 
must improve and advance their condition gradually, 
as they are able to bear it ; and even allow a certain 
ijumber of the most deserving to work out their free- 
dom by degrees (according to the plan said to be es- 
tablished in some of the Spanish settlements) as a re- 
ward of superior merit and industry, and of an uncom- 
mon progress in the kno\vledge and the practice of 
Christianity*. 

All this may be done, as they who are best acquaint- 
ed with the subject have asserted, and I think proved, 
without the smallest injury to the rights, the property, 
or the emoluments of the planter ; and were a plan of 
this nature introduced first into the Society's estates, 
tliere is every reason in the world to expect from it the 
most beneficial consequences, not only in a religion's, 

* The Spanish regulation here alluded to, is said to have taken place at 
the Havan»ah ; and is as follows. As soon as a slave is landed, his name,' 
price, &c. are entered in a public register ; eind the master is obliged by lavr 
to allow him one working day in every week to himself, besides Sunday % 
so that if he chooses to work for his master on that day, he receives the wa- 
ges of a free-nnan for it ; and whatever he gains by his labor on that dar 
is so secured to him by law, that the master cannot deprive him of it. As 
so'on as the slave is able to purchase another working day, the master is obli- 
ged to sell it to hinn: at a proportionable price, viz. one fifth part of his orri- 
ginal cost ; and so likewise the remaining four days, at the same rate, as 
soon as the slave is able to redeem them : after which he is absolutely 
ffee. — ^^See Mr. Shares Appendix to the Just Limitation of Slaisery. &c. 
p. 53. . 

There is something wonderfully pleasing and benevolent in' this institu- 
tibVi'. It were greatly to' be wished that some expedient of this kind might 
be tried zx least as an experiment, m some of the English islands. It is be- 
lieved (on very just grounds, and after the maturest consideration of the 
subject) by men of great j'udgirtent and long experience in the managemen 
of West India estates, that if the Negroes on* any of our plantations were 
emancipated gradually ^for every improvement of their situation must be 
very gradual) in some such way as is here proposed, and retained afterward* 
by their owners as day-laborers at a certain fair stipulated price, it would be 
an alteration no less advantageous to the planter than kind and compassioa- 
at6 tx3 the Negro, 

D d 



218 SERMON XVII. 

but even in a lucrative view. In the present situation' 
indeed of those estates, it cannot well be attempted. 
The embarrassments in which, by a series of the most 
unfortunate incidents, they have for some time past 
been involved, have rendered it necessary for the So- 
ciety to part with the management of them for a few 
years out of their own hands, which will render it un- 
adviseable, and indeed impracticable, to establish for 
the present, in their full extent, the regulations now 
proposed. Yet still if any thing here suggested should 
seem to deserve the Society's attention, they may at 
least allow it to have some share in their deliberations v 
they may be forming, digesting, and arranging their 
future measures with a view to this great object, and 
be gradually preparing the way for the complete execu- 
tion of them at a proper time ; in which there can be 
no doubt but they \vill have the hearty concurrence 
apd assistance of that v/orthy and benevolent member 
of the Society to whom they have for the present con- 
signed their West Indian property. 

With regard to our missionaries in North America, 
in what state they will remain after the great change' 
which has so recently taken place on that continent, is 
as yet unknown ; and therefore at present nothing 
more can with propriety be said concerning them than 
this; that the interests of the Church of England in^ 
America, will never be willingly abandoned b}'^ this So- 
ciety ; and that we shall ever retain, and, as far as we 
are able, give the most substantial proofs that we do en- 
tertain, a just and deep sense of the merits of those ex- 
cellent persons among our missionaries, who, amidst 
the dangers and distresses of w^ar, have preserved their 
fidelity unshaken, and through a long course of the se- 
verest trials have persevered uniformly and steadily in 
the discharge of their duty to their country, to the 
Society, and to the several congregations entrusted ta 
their care. 

But there is still another point which calls at present 
for some part of our attention ; I mean the English 
Protestants in the province of Canada. They arc 



SERMON XVIL 219 

^now «aid to amount to several thousands, settled in 
TclifFerent parts of the country, and at considerable dis- 
tances from each other. For the instruction of all 
these there are no more than three Protestant clergy- 
men, and those all foreigners, appointed and paid by 
government. There is not in the whole province a 
single English clergyman of our own communion, nor 
is there a single church belonging to the Protestants, 
they being obliged to make use of the Romish chapels. 

Every one must be sensible that such a provision as 
this, for the support of public worship among our Pro- 
testant brethren in Canada, is exceedingly inadequate 
to their wants, and loudly calls for some addition and 
improvement. One should naturally hope that Go- 
vernment itself would, on a proper representation of 
the case, extend its protection and assistance to so 
many deserving subjects, and increase the establish- 
ment of Protestant ministers in proportion to the great 
increase of Protestant inhabitants ; to which probably 
there will now be very considerable accessions from the 
other American provinces. In the mean while, this 
Society will perhaps think it necessary to pay some 
regard to those parts of Canada, where the English 
Protestants are most destitute of proper religious in- 
struction, and most remote from all opportunities of 
joining in that mode of publig worship which is con- 
formable to their religious sentiments. 

Every exertion, however, that the Society may think 
fit to make in these respects, will be perfectly consist- 
ent with that great and necessary work which has been 
recommended in this discourse. The proper period 
for carrying the vjhde of it into execution must un- 
doubtedly, for the reasons already assigned, be at some 
distance ; but the iirst steps towards it may certainly 
be taken without delay. We may, at least, enquire 
more exactly into the effects produced by the labors of 
our Catechist on our own Negroes. We may send, 
if it should appear necessary, fresh instructions to 
him, and may appoint missionaries to such of the plan- 
Millions as are willing to receive them. From these be- 



mo SERMON XVIL 

ginnings we may advance by degrees towards tlie corrir 
pletion of our design, till our plantation become (what 
I trust it will one day be) a model for all the West 
India islands to imitate : till it exhibit to the world a 
spectacle no less singular in its kind, than honorable 
to us and pur religion, a little society of truly Christian 
Negroes, impressed with a just sense, and living in the 
habitual practice, of the several duties they owe to 
God, to their masters, to their fellow-laborers, and 
themselves ; governed by Jixed laws, and by the ex- 
actest discipline, yet tempered with gentleness and 
humanity ; enjoying some little share of the comforts 
and advantages of social and domestic life ; seeing their 
children educated in the principles of morality and re^ 
ligion ; performing their daily task with alacrity and 
fidelity ; looking up to their masters as their friends, 
their protectors, and benefactors ; and consoling them- 
selves for the loss of their liberty and their native land, 
by the care taken to '' make their yoke easy and their 
*' burden light," to civilize their manners, to enlarge 
their vmderstandings, to reform their hearts, and to 
ppen to them a prospect into a better and happier coun- 
try, where all tears shall be wiped from their eyes, and 
>vhere sorrow and sla-very shall be no more. 

A scene such as this, which is far, I am persuaded, 
from being a visionary idea, would be delightful to hu- 
manity ; would form a new school for pietv anb 
VIRTUE IN THE WESTERN WORLD, a scmiuary of re- 
ligion for all the slaves of the neighboring plantations 
and islands, perhaps ultimately for the whole coast of 
Africa ; would be an example of decency, of order, of 
harmony, of industry, of happiness, which the other 
planters would find it impossible to resist ; and would 
more ejBfectually confute the various objections that 
have been made to the conversion of the African slavesj^ 
than all the speculative arguments in the worlds. 

* Every thing here proposed, with respect to the Negroes belonging to 
the Society's estate in BarbadoeS, might be effected without difficulty, if ^ 
piissionary u-e// qualified for the business was sent there, with a good ap- 
pointment, for the sole purpose of instructing the slaves in the principles ^f^ 
morality and religion. ' 



SERMON XVII. 221 

Awd let us not be deterred from this noble underta- 
king by the apprehension of that additional expense in 
M'hich it may involve us. The demands upon us from 
other quarters, where we have formerly expended 
considerable sums, will probably be continually grow- 
ing less and less ; the expenses incurred on account of 
our West Indian estates are now in a train of being 
gradually repaid, and even the savings from the mis- 
sions now vacant in America (should it be found im- 
practicable or unadviseable to re-establish them) would 
be more that sufficient to answer all the purposes of the 
proposed undertaking. But should it even require 
more than our revenues can supply, we need be under 
no apprehension of wanting proper support. When 
once it is known that the civilization and the conver- 
sion of the Negro-slaves is to be hereafter one of the 
grand leading objects of our pious labors, and a prop^ 
/er and practicable plan for that purpose is laid before 

And ihat a general conversion of the Negroes to Christianity is no vision- 
ary or romantic project, but perfectly pi-acricable, and that it would be in. 
the highest degree beneficial, both to the Negroes themselves and to their 
proprietors, by improving their morals, and promoting their increase, by 
rendering them more content with their situations, more diligent in their 
labors, more attached to their masters, is evident from the report made oa 
the subject to the committee of privy council (which sat in the year 1788 to 
examine evidence on the slave-trade, and at which I constantly assisted) by 
the governors and legislators of almost all our West India islands. And it 
is further confirmed beyond a doubt, by actual experience, by the astonishing 
success which has attended the labors of the Moravian missionaries in the 
Danish islands of St. Thomas, St. Croix, and St. John, and iTiore particu- 
larly in the island of Antigua, where there are now near 10,(XJ0 Negroes, 
under their direction, who are not only baptized but carefully instructed in 
the doctrines and duties of revealed religion, and are not merely nominal 
but real Christians. And so much do their converts exceed ail the uncon- 
verted slaves in sobriety, industry, honesty, fidelity, and obedience to their 
masters, that all the planters in that island are anxious to have their Ne- 
groes placed under their care. A very satisfactory statement of these im- 
portant and decisive facts may be found in a paper sent from Antigua, and 
inserted in the very valuable report of the committee of privy council above-, 
mentioned. 

In the speech made by Mr. Charles Ellis in the house of Commons, on 
his moving for a gradual termination of the slave-trade, in the year 1797, 
that gentleman strongly recommends a general plan for the instructjon of 
the Negro slaves in the principles of moralicy and religion ; and in conse- 
quence of his motion being adopted by the house, directions were ^.cturilly 
sent by the Secretary of State to the governors of the We£t Iiidia isir- ids, 
to promote in the most effectual manner the moral and religious iiistrucclonof 
the Negroes. But I have not yet heard that any enectu&l mea*ures have 
^rtherto been taken for thjit pur^jose. March 10, 1803. 



■^22 SERMON XVIL 

the public, every heart, every hand, will be open on 
the occasion ; and there cannot be a doubt but that 
the increase of our benefactions and subscriptions will 
soon gratify our most sanguine wishes. It is impos- 
sible that the generosity, the humanity, I will add, the 
justice of the English nation, can suffer near half a mil- 
lion of their fellow-creatures to continue in the most 
deplorable state of heathenism, irreligion, and vice, 
without giving the Society every assistance that may 
be necessary to extricate them out of it. It would be 
glorious to Great Britain to take the lead in this benev- 
olent and truly Christian enterprize. And allow me 
to add, that it is peculiarly incumbent on the people 
of this kingdom to exert their utmost liberality in alle- 
viating the miseries, both temporal and spiritual, of the 
wretched Africans ; since they have been for many 
years (till interrupted by the late war) more largely con- 
cerned in that inhuman merchandize of men, and have 
imported more slaves into the colonies, than aay other 
nation in Europe. By their means principally have 
many thousands, many millions, of human creatures 
ht^w torn from their native land, from every blessing 
that w^as valuable, every connection that was dear to 
them ; and, after passing in their voyage through in- 
incredible hardships and^ difficulties, (under which 
great numbers of them actually perish^) have been lan- 
ded in a country and among a people unknown to 
them ; aiid, without any offence or fault of theirs, have 
t)een doomed to a perpetual servitude, a servitude too 
which they leave (the only inheritance they ha'De to 
leave) entailed on their latest posterity f. 

* In the passa2;e, and in what is called the seasoniiig in the islands, one- 
third of the new-imported Negroes is sometimes lost. Long's Hist, cf ya- 
.^naica, vol. ii, p. 434. and Benezet's Caution, &c. p. 40. In a late trial at 
■Guildhall it appeared, that a ship freighted with slaves, being rcjduced to a 
great scarcity of water, 133 Negroes were hand-cuffed, and throivn into the 

t In the year 1763, the number of slaves bought on the coast of Africa 
was 104, 10 J. Of these 53,100 were boagiit by British merchants. The 
constant annual importation, and of course the annnal consiimptian, of Ne- 
groes iu America and tlie West Indies, is supposed to have been of late 
vears, on an average, about 60,000. The Abbe Raynu.! states the total im- 
.porLati.on from Africa, since i\\t first begiu'.iiug of the akive-tradCy nine mil' 



APPENDIX to SfiRMOI^ XVII. ^2S 

Let then our countryinen make haste to relieve, as 
fer as they are able, the calamities they have brought 
on so large a part of the human race ; let them endea- 
vor to wipe away the reproach of having delivered 
over so many of their innocent fellow-creatures to a 
most heavy temporal bondage, both by contributing 
to soothe and alleviate that as much as possible, and by 
endeavoring to rescue them from the still more cruel- 
bondage of ignorance and sin. Let them, in short, 
concur, with the generous efforts of the Society *' to 
*' heal the broken- hearted, to preach deliverance to the 
*^ capthes, and recovery of sight to the bUnd, to set at 
*' liberty them that are bruised, to preach the accepta- 
*' ble year of the Lord." 



AlTENDIX TO SERMON XVII. 

THAT the slave-trade to the coast of Afi-ica might 
without any material injury to our islands be abolished 
by one of the methods mentioned in the last note to 
the preceding sermon p. 222, has been repeatedly, and 
I think ver}^ satisfactorily proved. The attempts, 
however, that have been made to carry into effect any 
mode of abolition, ha^ e for the present failed, and the 
question is now probably at rest for many years. But 
although the main object of this great and mt morabk 
contest lias been unfortunately lost, and the efforts of 
those truly great men, who to their immortal honor 
contended for the extinction of this odious traffic, have 
not been attended with that complete success which 
might have been expected from the justice of their 
cause, the weight of their arguments, the splendor of 

iioiis of sla'^es. Hist. Phil. vol. \v. ]).\S4s. Surely it deserves consideration 
tigain and again, v/hether this cruel havock might not be prevented, Kvithoict 
any injury to the islajids, by scine one of the methods above suggested ; ei- 
ther by trying to cultivate the sugar-cane by enfranchised blacks, or by th<? 
abolition of the slave-trade, at a certain distant period, or by giving spck 
encourageuient to the population of the Negroes in our islands, as might 
render their increase equs.l to the demand of the plantations, and preclude 
the nccfesbity of any further importation from Africa. 



2^4 APPENDIX TO SEHMON XVlf. 

their talents, and the unrivalled power of their elo- 
quence, yet still many important advantages have inci-- 
dentally arisen from the agitation of the question, and 
the cause of humanity has upon the vi^hole been a con- 
siderable gainer by the conflicts 

In the first place, many excellent regulations have 
been made respecting the vessels in which the negroes 
are conveyed from Africa to the West Indies, and the 
mode of treating them during their voyage ; which 
have contributed most essentially to the preservation 
of their lives, and to the alleviation of the extreme mis- 
ery they formerly endured in passing from one country 
to the other. 

2. Since the discussion of this question, the condi- 
tion of the negro slaves in the British West India isl- 
ands,- has been considerably ameliorated. A much 
greater degree of lenity and gentleness has been exer- 
cised towards them, by the greater part of the West In- 
dia proprietors, than is said to have generally prevailed- 
in the islands twenty years ago. Their ease and com- 
fort have in several instances been very humanely con- 
sulted, and some very salutary laws have been enacted 
for their protection, and security, especially in the Isl- 
ands of Jamaica, and Grenada. 

3. Another most important advantage, resulting 
from this contest, is that in the course of it, the nature 
of the slave-trade to the coast of Africa, has been fully 
laid open to the world ; all its horrors have been drag- 
ged forth to public view, and the grand point in dis- 
pute, on which the controversy chiefly turned, and^the 
truth of which was for a long time most strenuously 
denied by the opposers of the aboHtion, I mean the in- 
justice, the inhumanity, and the immorality of that 
trade, has been at length given up, even by several of 
the West India proprietors themselves, and those too 
of the most respectable characters and talents. 

I appeal in the first place, to the full, explicit, and 
honorable confession of the late Mr. Bryan Edwards 
(tlie celebrated historian of the West Indies, and an 
enemy to the abolition of the slave-trade) in his speech' 



APPENDIX TO SERMON XVII. J 225 

delivered at a free conference between the council and 
assembly of the island of Jamaica, on the 19th of No- 
vember, 1789. The passage I allude to is as follows. 

*' I am persuaded that Mr. Wilberforce, has been very 
rightly informed, as to the manner in which slaves are 
generally procured. The intelligence I have collected 
from my own negroes abundantly confirm Mr. Wil* 
berforce's account ; and I have not the smallest doubt 
that in Africa the effects of this trade are precisely 
such as he represents them to be. Sir, the whde or 
greatest part of that immense continent is a field of 
warfare, and desolation ; a wilderness in which the 
inhabitants are wolves toward each other. That this 
scene of oppression, fraud treachery, and blood, if not 
originally occasioned, is in part (I will not say wholly) 
uplKld by the slave-trade, 1 dare not dispute. Every 
man in the sugar islands may be convinced that it is sOj 
who will inquire of any African negroes, on their first 
arrival, concerning the circumstances of their captivity. 
The assertion that a great many of them are criminals 
and convicts, is a mockery and insult , nor can any 
thing be more fallacious than a comparative reference 
to the number of felons transported annually from 
England." Mr. EchvarcPs speech at a Free Confer encCy 

^c. p. 10. 

In the next place, I appeal to the motion made by 
Mr. Charles Ellis, in the house of commons, April 6, 
1797, for adopting such measures as might gradually 
diminish tlie necessity of the slave-trade, and ultimate- 
ly lead to its complete termination ; which motion (as 
we are informed by one of the speakers in that debate) 
was, much to their honor, made at the general and al- 
most unanimous desire of the whole West Indian body 
in the house of commons, after many and deep con- 
sultations*. 

In the debate on this motion, Mr. Ellis candidly 
confesses that the slave-trade could not be considered 
in any other light, than as a necessary e'bil\ ; and that 
if the questions were changed to a deliberation, wheth- 

• Mr. Barham's speech. p. ^&. + Mr, EUi&'^3 speech. p. 38. 

Ee ' 



S2d APPENDIX TO SERMON XVII^ 

er a system should or should not now be established, 
which must depend for its future existence on a trade 
in slaves, the discussion might then be confined to the 
merits of such a trade ; and arguing simply on that 
principle, it would be impossible for any man of com- 
mon humanity^ to hesitate in foregoing whatever advan- 
tages might be expected from such a system*. 

It appears then from this speech of Mr. Ellis, and 
still more from that of Mr. Edwards, that the merits 
of the trade are completely abandoned, and the pro- 
priety of putting a termination to it admitted. The 
question is therefore, now brought into a very narrow 
compass, and reduced to this single point ; what is 
the best and safest and most effectual mode of remov- 
ing this dreadful scourge of so large a part of the hu- 
man race. This will be the sole subject of consider- 
ation, if ever this great question shall be again resum- 
ed ; and M^hen all the ability and wisdom of the two 
houses of parliament are directed to this single point 
now at issue, we may reasonably flatter ourselves that 
the decision of it will not meet with much difficult j 
m much delay. 

* Mr. Ellis's speech, p. %- 



SERMON XVIII. 



John xiii. 23. 

JVow there was leaning on Jesus* boaoin one of his discifiles^ nvhojn 
Jesus loved. 

THE person here described, is St. John the Evan- 
gelist, the author of that Gospel which bears his 
name, and from which the text is taken. It was lie 
who enjoyed the honorable distinction of being placed 
next to his divine Master, and of leaning on his bo- 
som at supper. He was, moreover, always one of 
those whom our Lord admitted to his most confiden- 
tial conversations and most interesting transactions, es- 
pecially in the last awful and affecting scenes of his hfe ; 
and he is scarce ever mentioned by any other name 
than that of the disciple whom jesus loved*. 
These circumstances plainly mark the favorite and the 
friend : and, on the other hand, if we advert a little 
to the conduct of St. John towards our Lord during the 
course of his sufferings, the very time when true 
friendship would be most apt to show itself, we shall 
discover in it plain indications of a strong and tender 
affection. 

When our Saviour was betrayed by Judas, and ap- 
prehended by the Jews, though St. John had at first, 
with all the other disciples, forsaken him and fied ; yet 
his affection soon got the better of his fears, and 
prompted him to follow his Lord, at the utmost hazard 
of his own life, into the palace of the high-priestf. 

* John xiii. 23 ; xix. 26 ; xx. 2 ; xxi, 7. 20. 
^f See Le Clerc, Doddridge, and other comiiientators on John xviii, 15^ 16. 



228 SERMON XVlrt. 

St. Peter did the same, but in a very short time after- 
wards, exhibited a melancholy instance of human in- 
firmity, and notwithstanding the most vehement and 
passionate professions of inviolable attachment to Je- 
sus, he denied him three times with execrations and 
oaths. St. John's way of manifesting his sincerity 
was not by words, but by deeds. He faithfully ad- 
hered to his divne Master in the very midst of his en- 
emies, and with fond anxiety pursued him through all 
the various events of this distressful period of his life. — 
After Jesus was condemned and hung upon the cross, 
casting his eyes down from that dreadful eminence, he 
saw among the crowd ** the disciple whom he loved 
** standing by*." It does not appear from the history 
that there were any other of the Apostles that attend- 
ed him in this last melancholy scene except St. John. — 
They were terrified, it should seem, with the danger 
of openly espousing him at so critical a time. But, 
unawed by any such apprehensions, which all gave way 
to the ardor of his friendship, and the extremity of 
his grief, our evangelist placed himself as near as he 
could to the cross, to catch the dying looks, and to 
wait the last commands of his Lord and friend. Those 
commands were soon given him, iiTthe most affecting 
terms ; and the trust then reposed in him was of such 
a nature as plainly showed what unbounded confidence 
his dying Master placed in his fidelity and affection. 
For our Lord observing several v/omen, and among 
them his mother, standing near his cross, fixed in 
grief, horror, and amazement, at that dreadful specta- 
cle, he said to his mother, ^' Woman, behold thy son !- * 
then, turning towards St. John, " Behold thy moth- 
<i erf !" Words few and simple, but full of meaning, 
expressive of a thousand tender sentiments, both to- 
wards the distressed parent whom he left behind him, 
and the friend to whose care so sacred a pledge was 
committed. St. John instantly saw the meaning, and 
felt the force of this moving bequest. He considered 
our Lord's mother as his own, and from that hour (as 

• John xix. 26. t Jo^^i^ -^ix. 26, 27. 



SERMON XVIII. 229 

he himself with his usual modesty and simplicity tells 
us) *' he took her to his own home*." 

Nor did his affection for his departed friend termi- 
nate here. It was continued after his crucifixion, to 
his memory, his character, and his religion. After a 
long life spent in teaching and suffering for that religion, 
he concluded it with a work of infinite utility, the re- 
visal of the three Gospels already written, and the 
addition of his own to supply what they had omitted. 
With this view principally he gives us several of our 
Saviour's discourses with his disciples, v/hich are no 
where else to be met v/ith ; and it is very observable, 
that these, as well as the many other occurrences of 
his life, which he introduces as supplemental to the 
other Evangelists, are such as set his beloved master in 
the most amiable and graceful point of view, such as 
a favorite disciple would be most likely to select, and 
most dis{X)sed to enlarge upon. Of this kind, for in- 
stance, are our Saviour's discourse with the woman of 
Samaria ; the cure of the infirm man at the pool of 
Bethesday ; the acquittal of the woman taken in. adul- 
tery ; the description of the good shepherd and his 
«heep ; the affecting history of Lazarus ; the conde- 
scending and expressive act of washing his disciples'*' 
fcet ; his inimitably tender and consolatory discourse 
to them just before his suffering ; his most admirable 
prayer on the same occasion ; and his pathetic recom- 
mendation of his sheep to St. Peter after his resurrect 
tion. These passages are to be found only in St. 
John's Gospel, and whoever reads them with attention 
will discover in them plain indications not only of a 
heaven-directed hand, but of a feeling and a grateful 
heart, smitten with the love of a departed friend, pene- 
trated with a sense of his distinguished kindness, per- 
fectly well informed and thoroughly interested, in every 
tender scene that it describes, soothing itself with the 
recollection of litde domestic incidents and familiar 
conversations, and tracing out not only tlie larger and 
more obvious features of the fiivorite character, but 

* John xix. 26, 27. 



230 SERMON XVIII. 

even those finer and more delicate strokes in it, \vhicJi 
would have eluded a less observing eye, or less faith- 
ful memory, than those of a beloved companion and 
friend. 

From this short detail it appears, that there sub- 
sisted between our Saviour and St. John a real, sincere, 
and tender friendship : and this fact being established, 
will furnish us with some remarks, of no small import- 
ance to religion and to ourselves. 

The first is, that friendship is perfectly consistent 
with the spirit of the Gospel, and the practice of every 
duty that it requires at our hands. Who, indeed, 
but must grieve if it was not ? Who but would grieve 
to find, that, in order to arrive at happiness in the next 
world, it is necessary to renounce one of the greatest 
blessings that can be possessed in this ? For although, 
indeed, both the merits and the pleasures of friendship 
have been sometimes, by ancient as well as modern 
writers, most extravagantly and injudiciously magni- 
fied ; yet, after all, it must be allowed, that when it is 
formed on right principles, and conducted with sobri- 
ety and good sense, there is something in it so soothing, 
so congenial to the human mind; it is v/hat the very 
best of men have been always so strongly disposed to 
cultivate and cherish ; it so improves every enjoyment, 
and so lightens every misfortune ; it is associated gen- 
erally with so many excellent qualities ; it gives birth 
to so many generous sentiments, so many noble and 
disinterested actions ; it is, in short, though not a vir- 
tue, yet something so '^ery like a virtue, that no one, 
who -has ever tasted the genuine satisfaction it affords, 
can willingly consent to part with it. He cannot easi^ 
\Y be brought to believe that a religion, which not only 
allows but improves and exalts every innocent and ra- 
tional enjoyment, should in this single instance assume 
a tone of rigor quite foreign to its natural temper, and 
preclude us from one of the sweetest consolations that 
has ever yet been found out for the various afflictions 
of life. And in fiict there is no need for any such ap- 
prehensions. The example of our Lord himself is 



SERMON XVIIL 231 

alone Sufficient to satisfy us on this head. If He had 
his beloved companion and friend, we cannot surely 
be acting contrary to his sentiments, if we also have 
ours. 

But whence then, it is said, that remarkable silence 
of the Gospel on this subject ? How comes it to pass, 
that on the article of friendship, which has so much 
exercised the eloquence of Pagan writers, not one syl- 
lable is to be found in the whole New Testament, not 
one precept or direction, not even the smallest degree 
of commendation bestowed upon it ? The answer is 
obvious. To have made friendship a necessary part 
of Christian obedience, would have been preposterous 
and absurd. For that similarity of disposition, and 
coincidence of sentiment and affection, on which 
friendship is founded, do not depend solely on our own 
choice, are not under the direction of our own will ; 
and therefore could not possibly be the proper objects 
of a divine command. Nor would it have been pru- 
dent to have expressed in the Gospel any particular ap- 
probation of this connection. It might have inflamed 
that propensity to it which nature had already made 
sufficiently strong, and which the injudicious encom- 
iums of heathen moralists had raised to a romantic and 
a dangerous height. Our divine iavv'giver showed his 
wisdom equally in what he enjoined, and what he left 
unnoticed. He knew exactly, what no Pagan philos- 
opher ever knew, where to be silent and where to speak. 
It was not his intention, it w^as indeed far below his 
dignity, to say fine things upon popular subjects ; 
pleasing perhaps to a itw^ but utterly useless to the 
i3ulk of mankind. His object was of a much more 
important and extensive nature : to inculcate the plain, 
humble, practical duties of piety and morality ; the du- 
ties that were of universal concern ajid indispensible 
obligation, such as were essentially necessary to ouc 
well-being in this life, and our everlasting happiness 
in die next. Now the warmest admirers of friendship 
cannot prc^tend to raise it into a duty, much less into a 
duty of this high rank, It is a delightful^ it is an ami- 



232 SERMON XVIir. 

able, it is often a laudable attachment ; but it is not 
a necessary requisite either to the present welfare of 
the future salvation of mankind in general, and conse- 
quently is not of sufficient importance to deserve a 
distinct place in the Christian system. The utmost 
that could be done there was to show (and it w^as suffi- 
ciently shown by the example of our Lord) that a vir- 
tuous friendship does not militate against the spirit of 
his religion ; but is, on the contrary, as we shall see 
presently, improved and exalted by its precepts, and 
finds in them its best foundation and its firmest support. 
From the mere silence then of the Gospel on this 
subject, no inference can be justly drawn against the 
lawfulness of friendship. But it is urged further (and 
it is a circumstance which seems to have had much 
weight with some very ingenious defenders of Revela- 
tion*) that it was one great object of the Christian 
religion to introduce into the world a temper of uni- 
versal benevolence and good- will ; and with that view 
its business was, not to contract^ but to expand our af- 
fections as much as possible ; to throw dovvU all the 
little mean fences and partitions, within which the hu- 
man heart is too apt to intrench itself, and lay it open 
to nobler views, and a larger and more liberal sphere of 
action. Hence it is imagined, that friendship must 
necessarily be inconsistent with the genius of that reli- 
.gion, because it lavishes on one object all that kindness 
and affection which ought to be diffused among the 
whole human race. And, indeed, if friendship would 
be content with nothing less than the surrender of our 
whole stock of benevolence, without the least reserve 
for the rest of our fellow creatures, it might well be 
deemed a monopoly altogetlier incompatible with that 
free and general commerce of good offices, which the 
Gospel certainly meant to extend to every quarter of 
the globe. But this surely is far from being a true 
state of the case. We may discharge every tender 
office that friendship can demand, without neglecting 
any of those social duties which Revelation enjoins. 

•* P:irticvtlar]v- the Ute Mr. Scame Jenyns. 



SERMON XVIir. 233 

Inhere are various gradations of afFection, correspond- 
ing to the various relations of life, all in perfect con- 
cord one with another, and contributing each their 
respective parts towards the composition of that harmo- 
ny which ought to reign throughout the whole. Con- 
nubial tenderness, filial affection, fraternal fondness, 
parental love, all these are /ar/f^/ attachments, no less 
than friendship, yet these most certainly the Gospel 
does not forbid. Why then should friendship be 
thought less reconcileable than these with the temper 
of our religion ? The truth is, the design of Chris- 
tianity was not to extingiiisb^ but to regulate only, and 
reduce to their proper dimensions, all our private and 
personal connections. Within the wide circumference 
of Christian charity, it allows us to form as many 
smaller circles of benevolence as we please; It requires 
only that our affections should move in them under 
the control of that sovereign law of universal lovej 
which, like the great principle of attraction in the 
material world, is diffused throughout our moral sys- 
tem, to guide, direct, and regulate the whole, and to 
restrain within proper limits every subordinate senti- 
ment and inferior movement of the soul. Under 
these restrictions j so far is Christianity from being ad- 
i)erse to any virtuous connections, that it actually pro- 
vides a remedy for the greatest imperfection under 
which they labor* It does, what in the fond hour of 
ftiffection has been often wished,- butj till the Gospel 
appearedj wished in vain ; it renders our friendships 
immortaL It revives that .union which death seems to 
dissolve ; it restores us again to those whom w^e most 
dearly loved, in that blessed society of '' just men 
*' made perfect," which is to form, probably, one great 
part of our felicity in heaven* 

If. But secondly; the example of our Lord, in se- 
lecting one beloved disciple^ does not only give his 
sanction to friendship^ but it teaches us also what sort 
of friendship it is that he allows and authorizes. For, 
whatever those qualities were which attracted his no- 
tice, and conciliated his affection, in the person of St, 

Ff 



2M SERMON XVIIL 

John, these, we may be sure, are the proper constiti?-- 
exits of a legitimate, a Christian friendship. Now it 
does not appear that St. Johnw^as distinguished by any 
of those showy intellectual accomplishments which are 
of all others most apt to strike -our fancy and captivate 
our hearts, although, in fact, they are often much bet- 
ter calculated for the amusement of a convivial hour, 
than for that constant fund of comfort and satisfaction 
through life, which we naturally expect from a well- 
formed friendship. That which principally attracts our 
notice, in his writings, and in his conduct, is a sim- 
plicity and singleness of heart, a fervent piety, an un- 
bounded benevolence, an unaffected modesty, humili- 
ty, meekness, and gentleness of disposition. These 
are evidently the great characteristic virtues that took 
the lead in his soul, and break forth in every page of 
his Gospel and his Epistles. These then are the qual- 
ities we ought principally to regard in the choice of 
Gur friends, and to cultivate in ourselves, if we would 
conciliate and preserve their affections. Now it is very 
observable, that these qualities are the very virtues 
which are properly styled evangelical, which the Chris- 
tian revelation more particularly recommends, and 
which distinguish it from all other religions that ever 
appeared in the world. A friendship, therefore, foun-^ 
ded on these principles, is, strictly and properly speak- 
ing, a CbristiaJi frieiidsblp^ and it w^ill be the direct 
opposite of those celebrated instances of Pagan friend-"* 
ship, of which we hear so much in ancient story. 
The characteristics of these .commonly were, a haugh- 
ty and overbearing spirit ; a vindictive, implacable, 
and impetuous temper; an intrepidity superior to 
every danger, and every consideration of justice, hon- 
esty, and humanit}^ in behalf of those partners in 
their iniquity whom they chuse to call their friends. 
Such wild extravagancies as these, as well as those 
confederacies in vice, which young men, even now* 
sometimes compliment with the name of friendship, 
are indeed diametricaiiy opposite to the genius of Chris- 
tianity. But it would be as unfair to take our ideas of 



SERMON XVIII. 235 

friendship from these corrupt perversions of it, us to 
form our notions of liberty from the excesses of a 
lawless rabble, or our sentiments of religion from the 
ravings of a delirious enthusiast. To know what 
friendship really is, we must look for it in that sacred 
repository of every thing great and excellent, the Gos- 
pel of Christ. We shall there not only see it actually 
existing in its utmost perfection in the person of 
Christ and his l^eloved disciple ; but w^e shall find that 
almost all the virtues on which his religion lays the 
greatest stress, have a natural tendency to generate it 
in our souls. Examine only the several branches of 
benevolence, as they lie in the sacred writings, and 
especially in that exquisite picture of charity which is 
drawn by the masterly hand of St. Paul^, and you ydW 
perceive that nothing is more easy than to graft upon 
them a firm and lasting friendship. They contain all 
the right principles and rudiments of that delightful 
sentiment ; and these being once fairly laid before the 
world, every man was left (as it w^as fit he should be) to 
make the application of them himself* at his own dis- 
cretion, to the purposes of friendly union, according as 
inclination led, or opportunity invited him. There 
can w ant nothing more than the concurrence of two 
congenial minds, to kindle these sparks of friendship, 
into a fiame, much purer, I apprehend and brighter^ 
and more permanent, than everglo^»ved vvitliin the breast 
of a heathen. 

From the whole then of tliis inquiry, it appears, 
that whoever cultivates the duties prescribed by the 
Gospel, will be of all others the best qualified for a vir- 
tuous friendship. But what is of far more consequence 
to the world in general, he will also be the best qualifi- 
ed to live happily without it. Friendship is a blessing, 
which like many others in this world, falls to the lot of 
few. It depends so much on constitution, on accident, 
on a concurrence of circimistances which so rarely 
meet, and which no one can command, that by far the 
greater part of mankind pass through the world, and 

* 1 Cor. xijj. 



236 SERMON XVIII. 

pass through it very comfortably too, without ever hav. 
ing the good fortune to find that person whom they 
can with strict propriety call a friend. Had then the 
Gospel given ever so many precepts or directions on 
the subject of friendship ; to a few refined philosophic 
minds they might perhaps have been of some use. 
But it was not for these only, it was for the multitude 
also, for the people at large, that the Gospel was de- 
signed. And to these it must be no small satisfaction 
to find, that a connection which they often want the 
inclination, and oftener still the power, to form, is not 
enjoined, is not recommended, is not even mention- 
ed, in the Gospel, and that they may go to heaven 
extremely well without it. A faithful friend is indeed, 
as the son of Sirach no less justly than elegantly ex- 
presses it, the medicine of life^* And happy they are 
who find it. But to those who do not, or by any fatal 
accident are deprived of it, Christianity has other med- 
icines, other consolations in store. It has pleasures to 
bestow, which will amply countervail those of the sin- 
cercst and firmest friendship. It gives that peace of 
mind, which nothing in this world, not even friendship 
itself can give. It secures to us the favor of that Be- 
ing, who is able to be our friend indeed. Our earthly 
friends may deceive, may desert us, may be separated 
from us, may be converted into our bitterest enemies. 
But our heavenly friend has declared (and he is one 
that may be trusted) that if we adhere faithfully to 
him, he will never leave us nor forsake usf. It is, in 
short, in every man's power to be, if he pleases, 
though not precisely in the same sense that St. John 
was, yet in a very important sense, the friend of Christ, 
We have our Saviour's own word for it. " Ye are my 
** friends," says he to his disciples, " If ye do what- 
^* soever I command you J." Nay, he has assured us 
that he will consider every real Christian as united to 
him by still closer ties. This assurance is given us 
in one of those noble strains of divine eloquence 
which are so common in the sacred writings. Quit 

f Eccles. xi. 16. % Heb. xiii. 5. \ John xv. 14o 



SERMON XVIII. 257 

Lord being told that his mother and his brethren stood 
without, desiring to speak with him, he gives a turn to 
this Uttle incident, perfectly new, and inexpressibly 
tender and affectionate. *' Who is my mother ?" says 
he, ** and who are my brethren ? And he stretched 
** forth his hand towards his disciples, and said. Behold 
*' my mother, and my brethren. For whosoever shall 
" do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the 
'' same is my brother, and sister, and mother**" 

* Matth. xii. 46—50. 



SERMON XIX. 

Philippians iv. 4. 

Rejoice in the Lord alivay : and again I sai/j Rejoice^ 

AMONG the many expedients piit in practice by 
the enemies of our Religion, to obstruct its 
progress, and to counteract its influence, it is no un- 
common one, to set before the eyes of mankind a most 
frightful picture of Christianity, and to represent it as 
a stern, austere, uncomfortable, gloomy religion, ad- 
verse to all the innocent enjoyments of life, and to all 
the natural desires and propensities of the human 
mind. As a proof of this, we are referred to those 
injunctions of mortification and self-denial, of peni- 
tence, contrition, and remorse, of abstinence from 
pleasure and enmity to the world, which occur some- 
times in the sacred WTitings ; and to those seasons-, 
which in conformity to the spirit of such injunctions, 
have, by the authority of particular churches, been set 
apart for the purposes of retirement and abstinence, 
recollection and devotion. That precepts of this im- 
port are to be found in the Gospel, and that they carry 
v/ith them some appearance of rigor, we do not deny. 
But it requires only a very small share of discernment 
to perceive, and of candor to acknowledge, that this 
is nothing more than appearance. It is very true, it is 
not to be dissembled ; the Gospel does most certainly 
require us to renounce some things, which the man of 
the world may not be very willing to part with. But 
what are these things ? They are those lusts which war 
against the soul : they are those selfish desires, whick 



SERMON XIX. :^3* 

contract, and narrow, and harden the heait : llicy ntt 
those hateful and turbulent passions, which fill the 
mind with disquiet, and the world with disorder ; they 
are those predominant vices and follies, those danger- 
ous and destructive amusements, which destroy all 
composure of mind, ali purity of sentiment and dignity 
of conduct, and plunge us in expense, dissipation, and 
ruin. These are the things which we are required to 
mortify, to deny, to subdue, to repent of, to renounce j 
and if these are the hardships complained of, to lliese 
indeed we must submit. But to accuse the Gospel of 
severity on this account, would be just as rational and 
as equitable as to charge the surgeon with cruelty for 
amputating a gangrened limby or the physician with 
Hi-nature for prescribing a strict regimen and a course 
of searching medicines to a patient bloated with dis^ 
ease. We have reason on the contrary to bless the 
skilful hand, that, by any operations, however painful, 
by any remedies, ho Vv ever unpalatable, condescends to 
preserve or to restore the health of the soul. The 
truth is, the very cruelties of Christianity (if they may 
be called so) are tender mercies. Far from inspiring 
gloom and melancholy, or rendering our existence un- 
comfortable, they are, in fact, the only solid foiindatioi> 
of true cheerfulness. Of all men living, those are the 
most wretched and comfortless, who are the slaves of 
their passions. Slavery of every kind, and this above 
all others, has a natural tendency to debase and de- 
grade the soul, and to render it abject, m.ean, and 
spiritless. And till (as the Gospel requires) we have re- 
solutely emancipated ourselves from this wretched state 
of spiritual servitude, we must never hope for any lasting 
peace or tranquillity of mind. Cheerfulness is the 
privilege of innocence and virtue. The vicious and 
impenitent have no pretensions to it. They may, in^ 
deed, have transient gleams of gaiety and mirth : but 
these are far different from that calm, serene, and con- 
stant sunshine, which religious cheerfulness sheds over 
the soul. The sorrows of repentance may somtimes 
bast a temporary shade around it ; but it soon breaks 



240 SERMON XlX. 

out again with redoubled splendor. ** Heaviness may 
*' endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."' 
The struggle with our depraved appetites may, per- 
haps, for a time, be painful enough ; but if we quit 
ourselves like men, it will soon be decided in our favor i 
and then all our difficulties are at an end^ From that 
moment, ** the ways of Religion are ways of pleasant- 
** nessand all her paths are peace.'' Christianity ex- 
cludes us from no rational, no harmless enjoyment. 
It does not spread before us a delicious banquet, and 
then come with a " touch not, taste not, handle not." 
All it requires is, that our festivity degenerate not into 
intemperance ; our amusements into dissipation ; our 
freedom into licentiousness. Though it bids us ■ * not 
*' to love the world" extravagantly, nor *'to conform 
" to it" criminally, yet it no where enjoins us to flee 
from it ; but rather after the example of our blessed 
Lord, to live in it, and to overcome it. A sullen, sol- 
itary, indolent retirement^ is far from being conforma- 
ble to the true spirit and temper of our religion, which 
is active, lively, and animated throughout^ Consider 
its precepts, consider the example of those who taught 
it, and you will find that the predominant quality in 
both is an UNIFORM, unremitted, cheerfulness. 
John the Baptist, it is true, the precursor, and herald 
of the Gospel, assumed the appearance of austerity 
and rigor- He came, '* neither eathig nor drinking. 
** He lived in the wilderness, had his raiment of cam- 
" els hair, and a leathern girdle about his loins^ and his 
" meat was locusts and v»^ild honey. ''^ A very proper 
demeanor this for him, whose province it was to pre- 
pare the minds of men for the Gospel, by repentance 
and self-denial, to till and dress the soil, to kill in it 
every rank and noxious weed, to render it clean and 
pure, and moist with the tears of contrition, fit for the 
reception of that good seed ^vhich his illustrious fol- 
lower was in a short time cominjy to sow in it. Wheix 
HE appeared, the scene was changed. The Saviour 
of the world came (as he himself is pleased to express 
it) ** eating and drinking." He came with all the 



SERMON XIX. 241 

marks of good-humor and good-will to men* lie 
went to marriage feasts. The very first miracle he 
worked was, to promote their cheerfuhiess : and he 
mingled in those happy meetings with so much ease 
and freedom, with so little afiectsition of moroseness 
or reserve, that his enemies gave him tlie name (a name 
which he treated with the most sovereign contempt) 
*' of a gluttonous man, and a wine-bibber, a friend of 
*' publicans and sinners*.'* Every mark of respect 
and attention that was shown him, he accepted with 
the most engaging and graceful condescension ; nor 
did he even disdain the rich perfume, which the libe- 
ral hand of Mary poured upon him, notwithstanding 
the ill-timed murmurs of his more fastidious followers. 
Although he himself, by his own example, plainly 
countenanced the practice of fasting at proper times, 
and under proper restrictions, yet he would not suffer 
his disciples to fast while he w^as with them. The time 
would come, he told them, when they would have 
abundant occasion to fast. But when the bridegroom 
was with them, they ought to know nothing but joy ; 
and that joy should not be interrupted by unseasons^- 
ble severities and anticipated sorrows. He reproved 
the hypocritical Pharisees for the ostentatious sadness 
of their countenances on such accasions ; and enjoin- 
ed his own followers, whenever they did practise an 
extraordinary abstemiousness, to preserve even in the 
midst of their humiliations, their wonted neatness of 
attire and cheerfulness of appearance. *' The hypo- 
'* crites," says he, ** disfigure their faces, that they 
'' may appear unto men to fast : but thou, when thou 
'* fastest, anoint thine head and w^ash thy face : that 
'^ thou appear not unto men to fast, but unto thy Fa- 
** dier which is in secret : and thy Father which seeth 
'* in secret, shall reward thee openly f." His dis- 
courses were of a piece wdth his deportment : they 
vv^ere soothing, comfortable, refrejshing. The form of 
w^ords, w^hich he made use of generally when he cured 
diseases, was, '' Son be of good cheer, thy sins be 

* Matth. xi. 19.- J Matth. >i. 16, \7. 

Gg 



24a SERMON XIX. 

*' forgiven thee." He was constantly endeavoring t0 
support the drooping spirits of his disciples by the most 
encourageing expressions ; and .when he found himself 
at length obliged to explain to them the hardships they 
were to undergo for his sake, the conclusion was, ** In 
'' the world ye shall have tribulation ; but be of good 
''cheer; I have overcome the world-^." 

The same spirit diffused itself to the apostles, evan- 
gelists, and disciples, who maintained, throughout the 
whole course of their ministry, a certain vigor and vi- 
vacity of mind, which no calamity could depress. 
Their writings are full of exhortations " to rejoice 
"evermore ; to show mercy wiUi cheerfulness ; to 
'' count it all joy, even wdien we fall into temptation." 
The language of the text, the language of the whole 
Gospel, is, " Rejoice in the Lord alway : and again I 
" say. Rejoice." Hence it is plain, that a constant 
cheerfuhicss is the distinguishing character of the 
Christian religion : that it animated both the precepts 
^nd the conduct of those who taught it, and was con- 
sidered by them as a necessary concomitant in the per- 
formance of every part of our duty. 

But the Gospel does not stop here. It not only 
commands us to be cheerful ; this it might very easily 
do ; but what is of still more importance, it assists us 
in becoming so ; it affords the best and most effectual 
helps toward obtaining that happy and satisfied temper, 
that constant serenity and com.posure of mind, with- 
out which all the wealth and grandeur of the world are 
insipid and worthless things. 

I. The first assistance of this kind it gives us is, that 
constant and enlivening employment winch it finds for 
our thoughts. The human mind, we all know, is rest- 
less and active ; and if not othervvise engaged, will 
turn its activity inward, will prey upon and devour it- 
self, and become the destroyer of its own happiness. 
A very large proportion of the evils which press the 
heaviest upon us^ are purely imaginary, are the creation 
of our own hands, and arise from lio other cause than 

* John xyi. 3.5.. 



SERMON XIX. 243 

the having nothing else to do, but to sit clown and 
make ourselves as miserable as we possibly can. One 
great means, therefore, of promoting cheerfulness is, 
to keep our thoughts constantly and usefully employed. 
The pursuit of any important and worthy object is in 
itself enlivening. Every advance we make in it, is a 
new accession of pleasure ; we feel ourselves animated 
with a gro^'ing delight ; and go on with increasing ar- 
dor and alacrity to the attainment of the end we have 
in view. A succession of worldly pleasures and oc- 
cupations may, for a time, engage our attention ; but 
that delusion is soon over, and they leave a void behind 
which nothing can fill up, but those great and noble 
purposes of action which the Gospel presents to our 
minds : the conquest of our passions ; the improve- 
ment of our nature ; the exaltation of our affections ; 
the diffusion of hjppiness to every human being within 
our reach ; the attainment of God's favor and protec- 
tion here, and of everlasting glory and happiness here- 
after. These are objects worthy of a rational and im- 
mortal being ; these will find ample employment for 
all the faculties and powers of his mind ; and the high- 
er his rank and abilities are, the more will his duties 
multiply upon him, and the sphere of his activity en- 
large itself. Whoever, in short, engages in earnest 
in the Christian warfare, whoever presses on with zeal 
and ardor towards the mark, for the prize of the high 
calling of God in Christ Jesus, and *' forgetting those 
*^ things that are behind, reaches forth to those that 
*' are before," will never find either his attention or 
his spirits droop. He will be continually animated 
with new prospects, elated vrith new acquisitions, re- 
warded with new triumphs, and will know nothing of 
that langour and flatness, that gloom and melancholy, 
which are so apt to seize upon unoccupied minds. 

II. Whoever suffers himself to be brought under the 
dominionof any malignant passion, envy, malice, hatred 
jealousy, or revenge, must from that moment, bid adieu 
to peace and cheerfulness. These odious tyrants are 
all most fatal enemies to our repose. They throw the 



2U SERMON XIX. 

n-ilnd into a perpetual ferment and agitation ; they ha- 
rass it with a succession of malevolent sentiments and 
vindictive designs ; they keep it in a constant fever of 
resentment, and allow it no rest. The man possessed 
by these wicked spirits " sleeps not, except he has 
*' done mischief : his sleep is taken away, unless he 
" cause some to fall*." Every one must see, that a 
state of mind like this must exclude all enjoyment of 
life ; must produce a sullen gloominess of disposition^ 
which no ray of cheerfulness can penetrate or enliven. 

When, therefore, Christianity exhorts us to put 
away " all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, evil-speak- 
ing, and malice," it prescribes one most effectual re- 
medy against disquietude and dejection of mind. And 
when it further recommends, in the room of these pas- 
sions, to substitute sentiments of mercy, kindness, 
ineekness, gentleness, compassion, brotherly affection, 
charity ; when it commands us to feed the hungry, 
clothe the naked, visit the sick, and pour oil into 
the wounds of the afflicted and distressed, it points but 
to us the most effectual means, not only to make others 
happy,- but ourselves also. 

In fact, true Christian charity, in all its extent, is a 
never-failing fund of pleasure to the soul. The joy 
resulting from the diffusion of blessings to all aroimd 
us, is the purest and sublimest that can enter the hu- 
man mind, and can be conceived only by those who 
have experienced it, Next to the consolations of di- 
vine grace, it is the most sovereign balm to the mise- 
ries of life, both in him who is the object of it, and in 
him who exercises it ; and it will not only soothe and 
tranquillize a troubled spirit, but inspire a constant 
flow^ of good humor, content, and gaiety of heart, 

III. Another source of cheerfulness to be found in 
the Gospel is, that most comfortable doctrine of a par^ 
ticular Providence, which is there set forth in the clear- 
est and most unequivocal terms. It is impossible for 
any thinking man, who supposes that the world, and 
all its affairs, are under no other direction than that of 

* Proverbs iv. 16. 



SERMON XIX. 245 

chance and fortune, to enjoy any true and permanent 
tranquillity of mind. There is such a variety of mi- 
series to which human nature is continually exposed, 
and which no human prudence can either foresee or 
avert, that, without a firm confidence in some power- 
ful superintendent, who is both able and v^^illing to pro-; 
tect us, we must live under perpetual apprehensions 
for ourselves and those who are most dear to us. From 
this most painful solicitude (which was in fact, a source 
of endless uneasiness to the Pagan world) the Gospel 
effectually relieves us. It informs us, that we are un- 
der the constant guardianship of an Almighty Friend 
and Protector, who sees the very minutest events, and 
governs the most casual ; who, in the immense range 
of creation, does not overlook the least or meanest of 
his- creatures ; who commands us, " to take no thought 
" for the morrow," but to cast all our care upon him, 
for this m.ost substantial and satisfactory reason, '* be- 
*' cause he careth for us;" who has declared, that, 
■* if we seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, 
*' all those things (that are really necessary) shall be 
*' added to us ;" and that, in the great variety and 
seemingly discordant mixture of human events, " he 
*' will make every thing work together (ultimately) 
*' for good to them that love him*." Here, now, 
is a firm and adequate foundation for enjoyment of 
the present moment, and indifierence about the next. 
Under the persuasion that no disaster can reach us 
without his permission, v/ho watches over us with an 
eye that never slumbers, and a tenderness which no- 
thing but guilt can withdraw from us, we can face 
those unknown terrors from which Pagan Philosophy 
turned away dismayed ; can look forward, unmoved, 
into futurity, and contemplate all the possible contin- 
gencies that may befal us, with intrepidity and uncon- 
cern ; with the cheerfulness of a mind at perfect ease, 
reposing itself in full confidence and security on the 
great Disposer of all human events. 

* Matth. vi. 35. 1 Pet. v. 7. Rom. viii. 2«. 



246 SERMON XIX. 

IV. That future state of existence, of which Chris- 
tianity first gave us a clear and distinct view, affords a 
prospect to us that cannot well fail to cheer and enliven 
our hearts, and even bear us up under the heaviest 
pressures of affliction. Without this support, there 
are, it must be owned, calamities sufficient to break the 
highest spirits, and to subdue the firmest minds. — 
When the good and virtuous man is unjustly accused 
and inhumanly traduced ; when enemies oppress and 
friends desert him ; when poverty and distress come 
upon him like an armed man ; when his favorite child, 
or his beloved companion, is snatclied from him by 
death; when he is racked with incessant pain, or 
pining away with incurable disease ; when he knows, 
moreover, that he can have no rest but in the grave, 
and supposes that this rest is the absolute extinction of 
his being ; no wonder that he sinks into melancholy 
and despair. But let the divine light of immortality 
break in upon him, and the gloom that surrounds him 
clears up. Let this day-star arise before him, audit 
will shed a brightness over the whole scene of his ex- 
istence, which will make every thing look gay and 
cheerful around him. He is no longer the same being 
he was before. A new set of ideas ar.d sentiments, of 
hopes and expectations, spring up in his mind, and re- 
present every thing in a point of view totally different 
from that in which they before apji^eared to him. What 
he had been accustomed to consider as insupportable 
misfortunes, he now sees to be most salutary chas- 
tisements. This world is no longer his home. It is 
a scene of discipline, a school of virtue, a place of 
education, intended to fit him for app^earing well in a 
far more illustrious station. Under this conviction he 
goes on with alacrity and steadiness in the paths of duty, 
neither discouragecl by difficulties, nor depressed by 
misfortunes. He is a citizen of a heavenly country, 
tovv^ards which he is travelling t his accommodations 
on tlie road are sometimes, it must be owned, wretch- 
ed enough ; but they are only temporary inconvenien- 
cies ; they are trivial disquietudes, which are below 



SERiMON XIX. 247 

his notice ; for at home he knows every thing will be 
to his mind. The blessings which there await him, 
and on which his heart is fixed, inspire him with an 
ardor and alacrity that carry him through every obsta- 
cle. Even under the most calamitous circumstances, 
he supports himself with this reflection, more pregnant 
with good sense and solid comfort, than all the vast 
volumes of anc-f nt Philosophy or modern Infidelity, 
that '' these light affiictions, which are but for a mo- 
*' ment, shall work for him (if he bears them witir 
** Christian patience) a far more exceeding and eternal 
*' weis^ht of G:lory*." 

V. There remains still another ground of joy pe- 
culiar to the Gospel ; and that is, the consolation and 
assistance of the Holy Ghost. It is a circumstance of 
wonderful beauty and utility in the Christian dispensa- 
tion, that one of those three divine persons, who each 
bore their share in the great work of our redemption, 
condescends to contribute also to our present tran- 
quillity : to abide v»/i thus here constantly upon earth ; 
to assume the endearing name, and perform the truly 
benevolent oiTice, of a Comforter. Under this 
character and tide, the Holy Spirit was promised to tlic 
apostles by our Savour, in his last afiecting address to 
them, in order to alleviate their grief for his approach- 
ing departure. This promise was most punctually and 
amply fulfilled on the day of Pentecost ; and from that 
time we see the influence of this heavenly Paraclete 
most eminently displayed in that astor.ishing and al- 
most instantaneous turn which it gave to the sentiments, 
the language, and the conduct of the apostles. From 
being tim.orous, dejected, and perplexed, shocked 
at the ignominious ^\\(\ of their Lord, afraid to appear 
in public, dubious, hesitating, and indecisive ; on a 
sudden they become courageous, undaunted, cheerful. 
They openly avow, tA\^ boldly preach, that once offen- 
sive doctrine cf a crucified Saviour. They profess 
themselves his disciples : they call upon all men to be- 
lieve in him ; and set before them, with all the pow'ers 

* 2 Cor. ir. ir. 



m SERMON XIX. 

pf the most masculine eloquence, the evidences and the 
doctrines of the Christian faith. No complaints 
from that time ; no dejection of spirits ; no discontent. 
Though they were persecuted, afflicted, tormented, yet 
it was all joy, and triumph, and exultation of heart. 
*' We are troubled," says St. Paul, " on every side^ 
*' yet not distressed ; we are perplexed, but not in des- 
'* pair ; as dying, and behold we live ; as chastened, 
** but not killed ; as sorrovvful, yet alway rejoicing i 
*' as poor, yet making many rich ; as having nothing, 
*' and yet possessing all things ; and though our out- 
*' ward man perish, yet our inward man is renewed day 
** by day^." Even St. Peter himself, he who had the 
weakness to deny his blessed Master in the extremity 
of his distress ; even he, after the descent of the Holy 
Ghost, was the very first to rise up in his defence, 
and in a long and spirited speech to vindicate his pre- 
tensions, and assert the truth of his doctrines. The 
same alacrity and joyfulness spread itself to all the 
converts. *' For they that believed vvere together, and 
*' had all things common, and sold their possessions 
" and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man 
" had need ; and continuing daily with one accord in 
" the temple, did eat their meat with gladness and 
** singleness of heart, praising God, and having favor 
*' with all the peoplef." 

Such were the cheerful scenes which the first dawn 
^f the Gospel, and the first appearance of the com- 
forter, present to us : and although these were indeed, 
preturnatural effects, arising from such extraordinary 
effusions of the Spirit, as were peculiar to those times, 
and not to be expected in our own ; yet in some de- 
gree, his sacred influence will still remain; and to 
every one that is v/orthy of liis consolations, we will 
still be a comforter. We are assured by the best au- 
thority, "that he will abide with us for ever ; that he 
" will dwell with us ; that he will be with us always to 
" the end of the world ; that the fruit of the Spirit is 
'* love, joy, peace ; that the kingdom of God is right- 

*■ 2 Cor. iv. 16. j Acts ii. 46, 4,7. 



SERMON XIX. 249 

"^ eousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost*." If, 
therefore, we constantly and devoutly pray for his di- 
vine assistance ; if we do not grieve him by any sinful 
thoughts and actions ; if we endeavor, by the most 
unblemished purity of mind and sanctity of life, to 
render ourselves fit temples for him to inhabit ; we 
may depend upon it that he will be our guide and com- 
panion, our comfort and support ; will, in temptation, 
give us fortitude, in affliction patience, in prosperity 
thankfulness, in poverty content ; will,.in every condi- 
tion and circumstance of life, impart to us that peace 
OF God, that heartfelt joy and satisfiction, which pass- 
es all understanding and all description. 

Before I conclude, I must beg your attention to one 
short, but, as I conceive, important observation, re- 
sulting from the foregoing discourse. 

We of this kingdom have been repeatedly stigma- 
tized by the other nations of Europe as a melancholy, 
dejected, gloomy people. The charge, I fear, is up- 
on the whole but too well founded ; and the proofs too 
visible, and sometimes too dreadful, to be evaded or 
denied. It behoves us therefore, surely, to inquire a 
little into the true causes of this national malady ; and 
to consider, whether one of these causes may not be 
a contemptuous disregard, or, at least, a cold indiffer- 
ence for that most pure, and holy, and enlivening Re- 
ligion, which contains the only true remedy for our 
disease. Instead of this, we have too commonly re- 
course to a very different mode of relief, to those per- 
nicious cordials of unbounded pleasure and endless 
dissipation, w^hich though like other cordials, they may 
raise our spirits for the moment, yet afterwards sink 
and depress them beyond recovery, and leave the un- 
happy patient infinitely more in distress and danger 
than they found him. If this be the case we know 
what we have to do. We must fly to a totally oppo- 
site regimen ; to that purity of mind, that sanctity of 
manners, that self-government, that moral discipline, 
that modesty of desire, that discreet and temperate cn- 

* John xiv. 16 ; Rom. vJii. 9 ; Matth. xxviii. 20 ; Gal. v. 22 ; Rom. xiv. 1/. 

H h 



250 SERMON XIX. 

joyment of the world, that exahed piety, that active- 
benevolence, that trust in Providence, that exhilirating 
hope of immortality, that reliance on the merits of 
our Redeemer, which the doctrines and the precepts 
of the Gospel so powerfully impress upon our souls, 
and which, as we have seen, are the best and most ef- 
fectual preservatives against all depression of spirits. 
It is here, in short, if any where, true cheerfulness is 
to be found. To those, indeed, who have been long 
dissolved in luxury and gaiety, that moderation in all 
things which Christianity prescribes, may, at first, ap- 
pear a harsh and painful restraint ; but a little time, and 
a little perseverance, will render it as deligluful as it is 
confessedly salutary. Be prevailed on then, for once, 
to give it a fair trial ; and accept, with all thankfulness, 
that most gracious invitation of our blessed Redeemer, 
" Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy la- 
*' den, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon 
" you, and learn of me, and ye shall find rest unto your 
" souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burthen is. 
"light-*." 

* ISlattii. xi. 28—30. 



SERMON XX. 



1 Cor. i. 20. 

JiVTierc is the wise ? nvhere is the scribe ? nvhere is the disjiuter of 
this ivorld ? Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this 
nvorld ? 

THE subject on which St. Paul is speaking in this 
chapter, and which drew from him the exclama- 
tion in the text, is the doctrine of the Cross : that is, 
the atonement made for the sins of mankind by the 
crucifixion of our blessed Lord. This is a topic on 
which he always speaks with an air of peculiar triumph 
and exultation ; and in this chapter more especially, he 
enlarges upon it with unusual strength of argument 
and eloquence. He was not ignorant that this doc- 
trine gave the utmost offence both to the Jew and to 
the Greek : but notwithstanding this, he asserts, *' that 
** it was the power of God unto salvation*." He was 
no stranger to the numberless objections made to it by 
the profound reasoners and the fashionable philoso- 
phers of the age, who are here distinguished by the 
appellation of the iDise, the scribe^ the disputer of this 
luorJd ; but their wisdom, their learning, their skill in 
disputation, had no v/eight with him. He considered 
their idle cavils and subtilties as utterly unworthy of 
his notice. He afErmed, that their boasted science and 
erudition never had been, never could be, of the least 
use to mankind, in leading them to the knowledge and 
practice of true Religion ; " and that the world bj 

* Romans i. 16, 



252 SERMON XX. 

*' wisdom," (by such wisdom as they possessed) 
^' knew not God :" whereas, what they called the fool- 
ishness of preaching^ ;" the foolishness of preaching 
the great doctrine of Redemption, had already enligh- 
tened the minds, and reformed the hearts of a prodi- 
gious number of people, and thus made '' foolish the 
*' wisdom of this world ;" had shewn the weakness 
and impotence of worldly wisdom, when compared 
with the rapid and astonishing effects produced by the 
so much deride^d doctrine of Redemption. Trans- 
ported with these ideas, the apostle breaks out into the 
sublime apostrophe of the text : " Where is the 
*-'' scribe ? where is the wise ? where is the disputer 
'' of this world ? Hath not God made foolish the wis- 
** do m of this world ?" 

Since the time of this great apostle, his argument, 
drawn from the inefficacy of Rabinical learning and- 
Gentile philosophy, compared with the consequences of 
the Christian revelation, has acquired additional force 
by the propagation of the latter, and tjie reformation 
wrought by it through a large part of the ^vorld, and 
the light diffused by it into almost every other part ; 
whilst the wise and the disputers of this world have 
never been able to work any considerable change in the 
dispositions and manners of a single city, or even a 
single village, throughout the earth. Yet, notwith- 
standing this apparent superiority, there are not want- 
ing persons who are full of objections to the Gospel of 
Christ ; and especially to that capital and fundamental 
article of it of which we have been speaking, the doc- 
trine of atonement by the death of Christ. 

If (say these disputers) it was God's purpose to res- 
cue mankind from the dominion and the punishment 
of sin, what need was there of so many strange expedi- 
ents, and such a long course of laborious and uncouth 
arrangements, for the accomplishment of this design ? 
What necessity was there, that no less a person than the 
Son of God himself should be sent from heaven to this 
lower world to take upon him our flesh ; that his very 

* 1 Con i. :[21. 



SERMON XX. 053 

birth should be a contradiction to the common course 
of nature ; that he should be allied to mean and indi- 
gent parents, live for many years an obscure life, then 
go about preaching a new Religion, full inc'ecd of ex- 
cellent precepts, but abounding also with mysterious, 
and unintelligible, and seemingly useless doctrines ; 
that he should go through along scries of in<":ignitics 
and sufferings, v. hich he might easily ha\ e avoided ; 
should at length submit to a most painful and igno- 
minious death ; should afterwards rise from the grave, 
ascend into heaven, there sit down at the right hand of 
God, and then send another divine person, called the 
Holy Ghost, to finish what he had left undone ? 

What necessity, it is asked, could there possibly be 
for such a complicated piece of mechanism as this ; 
for such a multiplicity of instruments, and such a va- 
riety of contrivances, as are here set in motion, to effect 
one single, and, to all appearance, very easy purpose, 
the pardon of a few wretched criminals ? Why could 
not God have done this at once, by one decisive and 
gracious exertion of mercy and of power ; by pub- 
lishing, for instance, an act of general indemnity and 
oblivion for past offences, on condition of sincere re- 
pentance and amendment of life ? Is not this a plain, 
sim.ple, and natural manner of proceeding, and far more 
worthy of the wisdom and the majesty of the Supreme 
Being, than that intricate, operose, and circuitous kind 
of process in the work of our Redemption, which 
the Gospel ascribes to him ? 

In ansvver to all these specious cavils, it might be 
suincicnt to say, *' Who art thou, O man, that re- 
" piiest against God ?" Shall the sinner that is saved, 
say to him that redeemed him. Why hast thou re- 
deemed me thus ? " As vvcllmiight the thing formed, 
" say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me 
*' thus* ?" Objections of such a nature, and frcm 
such a quarter, prove nothing more, ihi'n that man is 
as presumptuous as he is ignorant and weak. 

That the method which God mvx'e use of to redeem 
man by the death of Christ, is very difllrent from that 

* Rom. :.i;.20. 



254 SERMON XX. 

which a modern Philosopher would have made use of, 
may be very safely admitted, without in the least im- 
peaching either the propriety or the wisdom of that 
method. That God's proceedings are always infinite- 
ly wise, is most ceartain ; but he does not conduct 
himself on the principles of mere human wisdom, 
^' His ways are not as our ways, nor his thoughts as 
^' our thoughts." It is not always in man to perceive 
the fitness of those means which God makes use of to 
obtain his ends ; though there can be no doubt but 
they are the fittest that could have been imagined. 
Who could have supposed, that the way to exalt Jo^ 
seph to the highest pinnacle of worldly grandeur and 
prosperity, was to sell him as a slave to a company of 
travelling Ishmaelites* ? What apparent probability 
was there, that Goliah, the great champion of the 
Philistines, should fall by the hand of a stripling, un- 
used to arms, and furnished only with a stone and a 
sling ? How indignant was the mighty Syrian, Naa- 
man, when he was told that, in order to be cured of 
his leprosy, he must wash himself seven times in 
Jordan ? He expected something very diiferent from 
this. '' Behold, I thought," says he, *' that the 
*' Man of God w^ill surely come out to me, and stand 
^' and call on the name of the Lord his God, and 
^' strike his hand over the place, and recover the leper. 
"*' Are not Abana and Pharphar, rivers of Damascus, 
^' better than all the waters of Israel ? May I not wash 
^* in them, and be cleanf ?" So reasoned this wise 
man ; and so would any other w^ise ^man of modern 
times have reasoned on this occasion. But it proved 
in this, as it will in every other instance, '* the foolish- 
^' ness of God was wiser than men ; and the weakness 
" of God was stronger than menf ." He washed in Jor- 
dan, and was clean. 



* In this, and perhaps one or tv/o other places, a few remarks from other 
authors have, I believe, (in the course of my reading many years ago) in- 
sensibly mingled themselves with my own. But who those authors were J. 
•cannot at this distance e£ time dxstinctly recollect- 

t 2 Kings V. 11. \ 1 Cor. i. 25. 



SERMON XX. 255 

Nay, even in the ordinary course of God's provi- 
dence, what a number of things do we see conducted 
in a manner totally different from what one should nat- 
urally expect ? To instance only in that daily bread, 
which is the chief support of life. How comes it to 
pass, may the disputers of this world say, that so 
much trouble and pains are requisite to produce so es- 
sential an article for our sustenance as this ? What oc- 
casion can there be, that it should go through so te- 
dious a process, such a long train of preparatory ope- 
rations, before it becomes fit for use ? How strange 
does it seem, that the grain, which is to be our food, 
should first of all be buried in the ground ; there re- 
main for some time invisible and useless, and apparent- 
ly dead* ; then spring forth with fresh life, and in a 
new form ; arrive by slow degrees, to a state of ma- 
turity, and afterwards employ a prodigious number of 
hands ; undergo a great variety of changes, and assume 
many diiferent appearances, before it can be manufac- 
tured into that solid substance, which affords so much 
strength and nourishment to man ? Might not Provi- 
dence have obtained the same end by much more ob- 
vious and expeditious means ? Might not our daily 
bread be rained down upon us at once from heaven, 
like the manna of the Israelites ; or be made to vegetate 
on trees, as is the case in some parts of the southern 
hemisphere, where nature has left no other trouble to 
man but to gather his bread and eat it, whilst we are 
forced to labor after it through innumerable difficulties 
and delays ? These questions are just as modest and as 
proper as those we are apt to ask concerning the mode of 
our Redemption. And as we find that Providence has 

* Apparently dead. The sacred writers say, that the grain actually dicst r 
and Voltaire, in his ^estio7}i- sur I* Encycloped'ie\ triumphs not a little in thia 
supposed error. But a much better physiologist than Mr. Voltaire ( I meait 
Mr. Bonet, of Geneva) affirms, that the position may be justified as philo- 
sophically true. The exterior integument of the grain does most certainly 
corrupt and die. It is the germ only, or principle of vegetationj which re- 
mains and lives. " L'Enveloppe du grain perit, & de son " interiuer sort 
une plante bien difFerente de cette enveloppe.'* 

Essia Analytique, &c. par Mr. Bonet, Sc Bibliotheqiie des Sciences, 1771L 
IPccm. part. p. 145. 

■j- 1 Cor. y.y. 36. .1: Arpck Agriculture. 



256 SERMON XX. 

not thought fit to humor our prejudices, and conform to 
our ideas, in the one case, why should we expect it in 
the other ? We may, in both cases, with equal truth 
and justice, say, ^' Where is the wise ? where is the 
*' scribe ? where is the disputer of this world ? Hath 
'* not God made foolish the wisdom of this world* ?" 
But let us descend a little more to particulars. 

We are told, that to save mankind from the punish- 
ment due to their sins, the promulgation of a free par- 
don, on tlie part of God, would have been fully suf- 
ficient. 

Let us suppose then for a moment, that this had ac* 
tuaily been the case. Let us suppose, that the Son of 
God, or some other divine messenger, had been sent 
on earth merely to tell mankind, that they need be un-^ 
der no apprehensions about the consequences of their 
sins, for that they v/ould all be freely forgiven : and 
that, provided they behaved better for the future, 
they would be received into the favor of God, and re- 
warded with everlasting life. What do you think 
must have been the consequence of such a general un- 
quahfied act of grace and indemnity as this ? Would 
it not have given the world reason to imxagine, that God 
was regardless of the conduct of his creatures, and that 
there was little or no danger in transgressing his laws ? 
Would not this easiness of disposition, this facility in 
pardoning, have given men encouragement to continue 
in their sins ; or, at least, to have returned in a short 
time to their favorite and long- indulged habits, in a 
certain expectation of meeting witli the same gentle 
treatment \vhich they had already experienced ? And 
does not every one see, that this would have quicklv 
extinguished all the little remains of virtue that were 
left in the world ? There was, indeed, I allow, some 
ground to hope, that a God of infinite mercy and 
goodness would find out some means of saving a guilty 
world from^ destruction. But no man of common sense 
could imagine, that he would do this in such a manner 
as should be inconsistent with his other attributes ; 

* 1 Coi-inth. I. 20. 



SERMON XX. 257 

those attributes, which are as essential to his nature as 
his goodness and his mercy; I mean, his justice, his 
wisdom, his authority, as the moral governor of the 
universe. All these must have been shi^iken to their 
very foundation, had he pardoned mankind without 
some satisfaction made to him for their disobedience ; 
without some mark of his abhorrence stampt upon 
guih ; without some public exercise of his coercive 
power, which might prevent the sinner from flattering 
himself, that he might go on transgressing with im- 
punity, and might safely presume on the mercy of God, 
even in prejudice to the great ends of his moral go- 
vernment. 

But repentance, you say, would of itself have answer- 
ed all these purposes ; would have been a sufficient 
atonement for past offences, a sufficient satisfaction to 
God's justice, and a sufficient security to the sinner 
against the future effects of God's displeasure. 

Admitting all this for a moment to be true, there is 
still another question of some importance to be asked 
and answered, and which yet is commonly quite left 
out of the account. What reason have you to think, 
that had Christ done nothing more than offered to the 
Heathen world a free pardon of their sins, on condi- 
tion of repentance, they v/ould have accepted and per- 
formed that condition ; in other words, that, without 
some signal indication of God's abhorrence of sin, to 
strike their imagination, to affect their hearts, and 
rouse their consciences to a just sense of their guilt, 
they would ever have repented at all ? 

Consider only for a moment what the condition of 
mankind was, when our Lord made his appearance on 
earth. Their corruption and profligacy had grown to so 
enormous an height, and ran out into such a variety of 
horrible vices, as even in these degenerate days would 
appear shocking and portentous. They were, as St. 
Paul assures us in a letter addressed to tiiose very 
Romans of whom he is speaking, '* they were iilled 
*' with all unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, 
*' covetousness, maliciousness ; full of envy, murdsr, 

li 



258 SERMON XX. 

'' debate, deceit, malignity ; whisperers, backbiters,, 
" haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors 
** of evil things, disobedient to parents, without un- 
*' derstanding, covenant breakers, without natural af- 
*' fection, implacable, unmerciful^." 

What now do you think of such a race of monsters 
as these ? Do you think it possible, that mere exhort- 
ation alone^ or even the most awful denunciations of 
punishment, would ever have brought such miscreants 
as these to real repentance and vital reformation ? 
What litde probability there was of this, you will judge 
from what St. Paul further tells you in the same epistle 
that they not only did these things themselves, but 
took ^' pleasure in those that did themf." They were 
delighted to see their friends, their neighbors, and even 
their own children, grow every day more profligate 
around them. " They became vain in their imagina- 
'' tions, and their foolish heart was darkenedj." 
*' They were alienated from the life of God, through 
" the ignorance that was in them, because of the blind-. 
*' ness of their heart; they were past feelings and 
*^ gave themselves over unto lasciviousness, to work 
*' all uncleanness with greedinessll." This shows, 
that the number and the grossness of their crimes had 
effaced all their ideas of guilt, and " had seared their 
" consciences with a hot iron§.'' Add to this, that 
their philosophers and their priests, who ought to have 
restrained their vices, did themselves, by their own 
example, encourage them in some of their worst. 
Many parts even of their religious worship, instead of 
purifying and reforming, tended to corrupt and debase 
their hearts with the grossest sensualities ; and the very 
gods whom they adored were represented as guilty of 
crimes too shocking to be specified, but which all who 
sought their favor would certainly take care to imitate.*^ 
You see then what little prospect there was, that men 
under such circumstances should ever be prevailed on, 

* Rom. i. 29, 30, 31. + Rom. i. 32. % Rom. i. 21. 

I Eph. iv. 18, 19. § 1 Tim. iv. 2. 

\ Ego liomuncio hoc non facqrem ? See the whole passage. Terent, 
Ettu. iii. V. 43-. 



SERMON XX. 259 

by a mere preacher of righteousness (even though 
sent from the realms, and endued with the eloquence, 
of heaven) to repent and reform. Before they could 
ck) either, they must be sensible that they were acting 
"wcong. But tliey, on the contrary, thought themselves 
right. They not only acted wickedly, but acted soon 
principle. Their moral sense was inverted, '' The 
*' light that was in them was become darkness." They 
had no check within to stop their mad career of wick- 
edness ; and every thing without, every thing that 
ought to liave taught them a better lesson, their phi- 
losophers, their priests, their religion, their worship, 
their gods themselves, all contributed to confirm and 
strengthen them in their corrupt practices, and to bar 
up every avenue to reformation. 

It is therefore evident, that, without some awake- 
ning call, some striking and astonishing, and extraor- 
dinary event, (like that of the crucifixion of Christ) 
to affect the hearts and alarm the fears of the ancient 
Pagans, and to impress them with a strong sense of 
God's extreme indignation against sin, it was morally 
impossible they could ever have been brought to a se- 
rious, effectual, and permanent amendment of heart 
and life*. 

It is in vain, then, to talk of the great efficacy of 
repentance in averting the anger of the Almighty, and 
atoning for past offences. You ought first to settle 
the previous question, whether, if this had been all the 
expiation required, there would have been any repent- 
ing sinners in the world to have tried the experi- 
ment ? 

But to grant all this power of expiation to repent- 
ance, is granting a great deal more than truth will war- 
rant. 

* It is a singular circumstance, which I have from unquestionable author- 
ity, and which tends very much to show the powerful influence of a cruci- 
fied Redeemer, that in almost every part of the world, from Greeiiiand to 
the West India islands, those Heathens, that have been proselyted to Chris- 
tianity, were principally and naost effectually wrought upon by the history of 
our Saviour's sufferings, as recorded in the Gospel. When these were for- 
cibly stated, and repeatedly impressed on their minds, they scarce ever faiie<I 
to produce in them both a lively faith and a virtuous \'Xt. 



Q€0 SERMON XX. 

For from whence do you learn, that repentance alone 
will obliterate the stains of past guilt ; will undo -every 
diing you have done amiss ; will reinstate you in the 
favor of God ; will make ample satisfaction to hi§ in- 
sulted justice ; and secure respect and obedience to his 
authority, as the moral governor of the world ? 

J3o the Scriptures teach you this ? No. They plain*, 
ly tell you, that '' without the shedding of blood, there 
*' is no remission of sins*." But, perhaps, you col- 
lect it from the very nature of the thing itself. Con- 
sider then what repentance is. It is nothing more than 
sorrow for what we haye done amiss, and a resolution 
not to do it again. 

2ut can this annihilate what is past ? Most assu- 
redly it has no such power. Our former transgression^ 
still remain uncancelled. They are recorded in the 
books of heaven ; and it is not our future good deeds 
alone that can wipe them out. They can only an- 
swer for themselves (if they can do that) : they have 
no superabundant or retrospective merit to spare, as a 
cover to past offences. We may as well affirm, says Ji 
learned divine, " that our former obedience ivtones for 
*' our present sins, as that our present obedience makes 
'* amends for antecedent transgressions." 

If you think this doctrine harsh and unnatural, see 
wdiether your own daily experience, whether the ordi- 
nary course of human affairs, will teach you a different 
lesson. 

Look around you, and observe what is passing eve- 
ry moment before your eyes. You see men frequently 
destroying by sensuality, by intemperance, by every 
act of profligacy, their health, their fortune, their cha- 
racter, their happiness here and hereafter. You see 
them, perhaps, afterwards most heartily sorry for what 
they have done ; sincerely repenting of their wicked- 
ness ; resolving for the future to lead a virtuous and 
religious life, ^pd perhaps fulfilling tha:t resolution. 
But does this always restore them to their health, their 
fortune, or their good fame f No : they are often gone 

* I-Ieb. iji. 22. 



SERMON XX. 26J 

for ever, lost beyond redemption, notwithstanding their 
utmost efforts to recover them. The wretch that has 
committed a murder, may be struck with the deepest 
remorse and horror for his crime, and may most seri- 
ously determine to make every amends for it in hiip 
power. But does this save him from the band of jus* 
ticc, from tl:»e punishment denounced against his ofr 
fence by law ? We know that it does not. Unless 
some powerful mediator or friend interpose to obtain 
his pardon, he will fall by the hand of the executioner. 
And in a multitude of other instances, nothing but the 
generous kindness of our friends, and their readiness 
to encounter great inconvenience, expense, trouble, 
and misery, for our sakes, can avert the fatal conse^ 
quences which our indiscretions, follies, and viceg 
would, in spite of the sincerest repentance and re- 
morse, infallibly bring upon us^. Since then, notwith- 
standing the mercy and the goodness of God, repentance 
does not prevent the natural penal consequences of our 
crimes in this world, w^hat reason is there to think, that 
it will avert the vengeance due to them in the next, 
which is under the government of the same Almighty- 
Being ? 

That it is incapable of producing this effect, will ap- 
pear further from the consideration, that the sincerest 
repentance and reformation must necessarily be in some 
degree imperfect, mixed with failings, and subject to 
occasional relapses ; and tlierefore, instead of atoning 
for past transgressions, mnst themselves stand in need 
of indulgence and forgiveness. Jf repentance placed 
us in a state of moral perfection and unsinning obedi- 
ence, there might be some pretence, perhaps, for ascrir 

* It is remarkable, that cur Lord himself compares his interposition to 
save us from ruin to the generous interference of a man to rescue his friend 
from destruction. "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay 
" down his life for his friends^ ;" alluding, evidently, to this instance 
of his love for us. This, perhaps, might suggest the idea of t^at noble prin- 
ciple of analog}-, by which Bishop Butler has so admirably illustra'^cd, gind 
so unansv^rerably defended the great Scriptural doctrine of our Redemption, 
by Christ interfering os a friend in cur behalf, ar.d vcliunarily substituting 
himself for us on the cross. 

t :fohn XV. 13. 



262 SERMON XX. 

bing to it a considerable degree of expiatory virtue. 
But let the truest and devoutest penitent look impar- 
tially into his own heart, and then let him fairly say, 
whether this is actually the case. Has he so complete- 
ly washed his hands in innocency, and purified his soul 
from sin, that not a single evil propensity remains 
within him ? Has he entirely subdued every inveterate 
habit, every inordinate passion, every sin that did most 
easily beset him ? Is it all calmness, composure, peace 
and order within ? Is air rancor and malice laid asleep 
in his breast ? Can he forgive the grossest insults, the 
crudest calumnies, and the most unprovoked inju- 
ries ? Do his thoughts never wander beyond the 
limits of his duty, nor his eye delight to dwell on 
improper objects ? Are his affections detached from 
this world, and fixed entirely on things above ? Does 
his heart glow with unbounded love towards his 
neighbor, and is it touched with the hallowed flame of 
piety and devotion towards his Maker ? When he can 
truly say, that this is a genuine picture of his soul, he 
may then, if he thinks fit, reject a crucified Redeemer. 
But till then, he will do well not to lean too confident- 
ly on repentance as his only stay. 

If, then, neither Scriptui'e nor experience teach us, 
that repentance alone will avilfor our pardon with God^ 
does the light of nature assure us that it will ? To 
know what are the genuine dictates of nature, you 
must not look for them in a land enlightened by Rev- 
elation ; you must go back to those ages and those 
countries, where nature was. indeed, the only guide 
that men had to direct their ways. And what was then 
their opinion of the efficacy of repentance ? Did the 
ancient Pagans entertain such high notions of it, as 
some theologians, in the present times, seem to have 
taken up ? By no means ; we scarce ever hear them 
talking of repentance. When they had offended their 
gods, they thought of nothing but oblations, expiations, 
lustrations, and animal sacrifices. These were the ex- 
pedients to which they always had recourse to regain 
the forfeited favor of their deities. Thk universal 



SERMON XX. 2eS 

practice of shedding blood to obtain the pardon of guilt, 
most clearly shows ^vhat the common apprehensions 
of mankind were on this subject, when under the sole 
direction of their own understanding -: it shows, they 
thought that, something else was necessary, besides 
their own repentance and reformation, to appease the 
anger of their gods. They thought that, after all they 
could do for themselves, something must be done or 
suffered by some other being, before they could be 
restored to the condition they ^vould have been in if 
they had never forfeited their innocence. Nay, some 
of the greatest, and wisest, and best among them de- 
clared, in express terms, ^' that there was wanting 
" some iin'mer sal method of delhering m£iV s souls which 
*' no sect of Philosophy had ever yet found out^." 

This imher sal method of deli'Dering men^s soids^ (as it 
is here most properly and most emphatically called) was 
at length made known to mankind by the Christian Rev- 
elation which we have been here considering. Our bles- 
sed Lord was himself the great, the all-atoning Victim, 
offered up for the whole W'Orld upon the cross. '' He 
'' was wounded for our transgressions, and on him the 
*' Lord hath laid the iniquity of us allf." " He bore our 
*' sins in his own body on the tree, that we being dead to 
*' sin should live unto righteousnessj.'* He was, ia 
short, the very Paschal Lamb, which was slain for us 
from the foundation of the world. He was the great uni- 
versal Sacrifice to which all the prophets, from the fall 
of Adam to the birth of Christ, uniformly directed 
their views and their predictions and of which all the 
sacrifices under the Jewish law were only types and 
emblems. They were the shadow : Christ w^as the 
substance. And, as the writer to the Hebrews justly 
observes, '* if the blood of bulls and of goats, and the 
" ashes of an heifer, sprinkling the unclean, sancti- 
*' fied to the purifying of the flesh ;" (that is, released 
the offender from legal uncleanness and temporal pu- 
nishment) '' how much more shall the blood of Christ, 

* Porphyry, as quoted by Austin, de Clvitate Dei. I. 10. c. 02. 
t Isaiah tiii. 5, 6, P Teter ii. 24. 



264 SERMON XX. 

** who, through the eternal Spirit, offered himseff 
*' without spot to God, purge your consciences from 
*' dead works, to serve the living God^ ?'' 

This is, in a few words, the sum and substance of 
the great mystery of our Redemption. That it is a 
mystery, a great and astonishing mystery, we readily 
acknowledge. But this was naturally to be expected 
in a work of such infinite difficulty, as that of render- 
ing the mercy of God, in pardoning mankind, consist- 
ent with the exercise of his justice, and the support of 
his authority, as the moral Governor of the world. 
Whatever could effect this, must necessarily be some- 
thing far beyond the comprehension of our limited 
understandings ; that is, must necessarily be mysteri- 
ous. And, therefore, this very circumstance, instead 
of shocking our reason and staggering our faith, ought 
to satisfy the one, and confirm the other. 

What remains further to be said on this interesting 
and important subject, I shall reserve for a separate 
discourse. 

* llth. ix. 13,14. The Soclnians say, that the expressions in Scripture, 

which seem to prove the death of Cliri&t to be a real sacrifice for sin, arc^ 
nothing more than figurative allusions to the animal sacrifices of the Mo- 
saical law. But it has been well observed, that the 'oery reverse of this is 
th6 truth of the case. For these Mosaical sacrifices were themselves allu- 
sions to the great all-sufficient Sacrifice, which was to be made by our Sa- 
viour on the cross. 



Kprti 



SERMON XXI. 



1 Cor. i. 20. 

Where is the rfise ? where is the scribe ? where is the disfiuter of 
this world ? Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this 
world ? 

. 

FROM the train of reasoning pursued in the prece- 
ding discourse, it has, I trust, been made evident, 
that though repentance and reformation are without 
doubt indisputably necessary towards procyring the 
pardon of sin, fso necessary, that without them not 
all the sacrifices on earth, nor all the mercies of heaven, 
can avail to save us) yet they are not of tbemsehes suf- 
ficient to wash away the stains of past guilt, to satisfy 
the justice of an offended God, and restore a wicked 
and rebellious world to his protection and favor. 

It appears, both from the nature of the things them- 
selves, from the clearest deductions of reason, from 
the ordinary course of human affairs in the present 
world, from the common apprehensions, and the uni- 
versal practice of mankind, before the appearance of 
Christ upon earth, and above all, from the positive de- 
clarations of God himself, both in the Old and New 
Testament, that, besides the contrition of the sinner 
himself, something must be done or suffered by some 
other being on his account ; some sort of expiation 
must be made for him, and accepted, before he can be 
exonerated of guilt, and redeemed from punish- 
ment, and stand justified in the eyes of his offended 
Maker. 

Kk 



266 SERMON XXI. 

This principle being established ; (and it appears t(y 
me incontrovertible) who shall afterwards presume tO' 
say, that the particular kind of expiation, or, in other 
words, the particular mode of Redemption, which God 
actually fixed upon for the preservation of mankind^ 
was not the best and fittest that couH be devised? If 
some victim, some propitiatory sacrifice, was plainly 
necessary for this purpose ; who shall undertake to 
affirm, that the very individual sacrifice appointed by 
God himself, was not the properest and most effectual 
to answer the end proposed ? If commutative punish- 
ment and vicarious suffering appear not only to have 
prevailed among all Heathen nations from the earliest 
ages, and to have been establislied among the Jews by 
the express appointment of God, but even at this hour 
to make a part of the ordinary dispensations ofGod-s. 
providence in the present world, '(where we continually 
see men rescued from ruin by the interposing kindness, 
the generous exertions, and the voluntary sufferings 
of others on their account) ; who shall say, that there 
was either cruelty or injustice, in appointing Christ 
to die, much less in his voluntary consent to die, 
*' for us men iind for our salvation ?'' If, in fine, the 
value of the victim offered was usually proportioned ta 
the magnitude of the offence,^ and the number of the 
ofenders ; why should it appear in the least incredible,, 
that when the inhabitants of a whole world, (perhaps 
of many worlds and systems of w^orlds) and all their 
generations, from the very Ml of our first parents to 
the end of time, were to be cleansed from guilt, no- 
thing less than the blood of the Son of God himself, 
should be thought to possess sufficient purifying pow- 
ers to wash away stains of so deep a dye^ and so vast 
extent ? 

It is evident, then, that all the plausible objections 
of ''the wise, the scribe, the disputer of this world," 
against the Scripture doctrine of Redemption, founded 
on the nature of the sacrifice made by our Lord, on the 
dignity of his person, on the union of the divine na- 
ture with the man Christ Jesus, or any other circum- 



SERMON XXI. 267 

stances of that nature, are utterly void of all founda- 
tion in truth, in reason, in experience, and in the ac- 
tual course of human affairs in God's administration of 
the universe. We may, therefore, safely dismiss them 
without further notice : and may assume it as an un- 
doubted truth, that though we ourselves could not, 
with our short-sighted faculties, discover the smallest 
traces of wisdom or propriety in the Redemption of 
the world by the death of Christ, yet that it is in fact 
the wisest that could be chosen ; that the difficulties at- 
tending it arise only from that impenetrable darkness 
which surrounds the throne of the Almighty, and must 
necessarily rest on many of his works, both of naturp 
and of grace ; and that it is, notwithstanding, as the 
Scripture most accurately and sublimely expresses it, 
*' the wisdom of God in a mystery^." Yet still, by 
contemplating this mystery attentively, we may, even 
with our limited understandings, discover some marks 
of divine wisdom ; some reasons, which might induce 
the Almighty to prefer this method of redeeming the 
world to any other ; reasons sufficient at least to show, 
that when the veil is wholly withdrawn, when w^e no 
longer " see through a glass darkly," but are admit- 
ted to contemplate " in open day" the whole plan and 
the entire system of our redemption, we shall have as 
much reason to reverence the depth of the counsels of 
the Almighty, as we confessedly have, even at present, 
with all our ignorance, and all the natural obscurity of 
the subject, to adore his goodness. 

Out of many of these ^marks of divine wisdom, in 
the mode of our Redemption, which might be produ- 
ced, I shall select only a few of the most important. 

I. In the first place, it has often been, and cannot 
be too often, remarked, that the atonement made on 
the cross for the sins of man, removed a difficulty, 
which *' the wise, the scribe, the disputer of this 
*' world," with all their wisdom, were never able to 
surmount. It reconciled a contradiction, which to eve- 
ry human understanding appeared insuperable. It re- 

* 1 Cor. ii. 7. 



I 



26B SERMON XXI. 

conciled the mercy and the justice of God in his treat- 
ment of mankind. It gave salvation to a guilty world, 
.without either inflicting on the offenders the punish- 
iTient justly due to their offences, or giving counte- 
nance and encouragejxient to sin. By accepting the 
death of Christ instead of ours, *'by laying on him 
*' the iniquity of us all," God certainly gave us the 
most astonishing proof of his mercy : and yet, by ac- 
cepting no less a sacrifice than that of his own Son, he 
has, by this inost expressive and tremendous act, sig^ 
nified to the whole world such extreme indignation at 
sin, as may well alarm, even while he saves us, and 
make us " tremble at his severity, even while we are 
/* within the arms of his mercy*." 

II. The appearance of Christ in the form of maH, 
and the death he suffered for pur sakes, did not only 
make our peace with God, but it also enabled him to 
afford us the strongest possible proof of that most com^ 
fprtable doctrinp, our resurrection from the dead, by 
his own return to life again after lying three days in the 
grave. It was, therefore, a most eminent proof of 
divine wisdom, that the very same event, the death of 
Christ, should answer two such important purposes ; 
should both afford us the means of reconciliation vvith 
God, and at the same time give birth to another great 
event, which fills us with the joyful hope and the cer- 
tain expectation of everlasting life. Nay, even the 
public and ignominious manner in which our Lord ex- 
pired, and which has sometimes been a ground of ob- 
jection and of reproach, was in reality an additional 
indication of divine wisdom. For had our Lord's 
death been less public and notorious, and had his per- 
son been in his last moments less exposed to the obser- 
vation of mankind, the proof of his resurrection from 
the dead would have been considerably weakened. 
Had his death been private and silent, and after the or- 
dinary manner of men, the reality of it would very 
soon have been questioned ; and consequently his re- 
surrection would have been represented as a gross fraud 

* Scott's Christian Life, b. 3. 



« SERMON XXI. 56^ 

and a scandalous iniposition on the credulity of man- 
tind. But his crucifixion in the face of day, and in 
the presence of an immense concourse of people, took 
away every pretence of this nature, and gave a strong 
and irresistible confirmation to the truth of that aston- 
ishing miracle which followed ; w hich is the foundation 
of all our hopes, and the great corner-stone of our 
whole Religion. 

III. Before the appearance of our Saviour on earth, 
there was a notion universally prevalent in every part 
almost of the known world, that sin could no other- 
wise be expiated than by animal sacrifices. And this 
at length was carried so far, that in some extraordina- 
ry cases it was thought that the death of brute animals 
was not sufficient. Human sacrifices became neces- 
sary ; and the more near and dear the person sacrificed 
was to them, the more valuable was the offering 
thought ; so that they frequently slaughtered their sons 
and daughters, more especially their first-born, on 
the altars of their gods. Now the death of Christ, at 
the same time that it was a gracious condescension to 
the prevailing opinion of the necessity of sacrifice, put 
an entire end (through a great part of the world) to that 
sanguinary species of devotion, by rendering it totally 
useless and inefficacious. For '* Christ was offered 
" once for all ; by one oifering he perfected for ever 
'Uhem that are sanctified*;" and obtained, by one 
single act, that which m.ankind had, from the beginning 
of the world, been endeavoring in vain to accomplish, 
by innumerable and continual sacrifices, namely, the 
pardon of their sins, and reconciliation with God. Af- 
ter this universal and effectual expiation, no other was 
of the least use or value. Accordingly, in every coun- 
try that embraced the Gospel, all sacrifices, both animal 
and human, immediately ceased ; and a sudden and 
absolute period was pjit to that incredible effusion of 
blood, wliich had deluged the world almost from the 
very creation down to that time. 

* Hebrews x. 10. li 



270 SERMON XXI. 

^^ IV. At the same time, that the sacrifice made by 
Christ upon the cross put an end to all other sacrifices, 
it gave (what they could never give) an absolute cer- 
tainty oi^^xdiO\\ on the condition of repentance and 
reformation of life. This it was impossible that any 
one could rationally expect from the slaughter of an 
innocent animal, much less from that of a human be- 
ing. Both these acts seemed in themselves, rather 
calculated to increase guilt than to take it away. God 
might, indeed, if he pleased, accept the commutation of 
one life for another ; and it was on this presumption 
that the Heathen world adopted the custom of sacrifices. 
But this was certainly a mere presumption. Without 
an express revelation of the divine will in this respect, 
no one could be absolutely sure that such a substitu- 
tion would be accepted. But God has now actually 
declared in the Gospel, that he does accept the death 
of Christ as a propitiation for our sins. And to put 
this beyond all doubt, he has ratified and confirmed 
that acceptance by a public, significant and decisive 
act of approbation, the act of raising him from the 
dead. 

V. The death of Christ is also a seal and confirma- 
tion of the new covenant betwixt God and man. 

For it was the custom of almost all ancient nations, 
both Jews and Gentiles, to ratify their treaties and 
covenants by sacrifices. Of this you may see instances 
in various parts of Scripture*, and in several Heathen 
historiansf. In condescension therefore to the manner 
of men, and to confirm their faith in his promises, God 
did, by the sacrifice of Christ, seal and ratify his new 
covenant of mercy with mankind ; upon which account 
the death of our blessed Lord is called (as the Jewish 
sacrifices also were) '' the blood of the co^enant\,'^'* 
This, therefore, is another excellent purpose answer- 
ed, by that method of redeeming us which God was 
pleased to fix upon : that it is conformable to all those 
foederal rights by which men were wont to confirm their 

* Gen, XV. Jerem. xxxiv. f Livy, lib. i. c. 24. 8cc. &;c- 
t- Heb. X. 29 ; xii. 21. Ex. xxiv. 8. 



SERMON XXL 271 

covenants with each other ; and thus gives us every 
possible assurance, not only by words, but by the most 
expressive actions, that God will perform all his gra- 
cious promises made to us in the Gospel, provided we 
fulfil the conditions on which alone those promises are 
made. 

These are some of tlie reasons which might possibly 
induce our Maker to fix on the death of his Son as the 
best method of redeeming mankind ; and there may 
be, and undoubtedly are, many other reasons for that 
choice, unknown to us, still more wise and more be- 
nevolent than those already specified. Yet these are 
abundantly sufficient to convince us, that the redemp- 
tion wrought for us by Christ upon the cross, carries 
in it the plainest marks of divine wisdom. 

Still, however, it may be urged, and it often is urged 
with great confidence, that even admitting the force of 
every thing here said, admitting the necessity of some 
sacrifice for the expiation of sin, and a sacrifice too of 
great value and dignity ; yet after all, it seems utterly 
incredible, that the death of no less a person than the 
Son of God himself should be necessary for this pur- 
pose ; and that he, in whom all the fulness of the god- 
head dwelt, should ever consent and condescend to be- 
come that sacrifice, and to expire in agonies on the cross 
for such a creature as man, who occupies so small and 
and seemingly so inconsiderable a place in the immensi- 
ty of the universe. 

There is undoubtedly something very astonishing 
in this circumstance. But there are not wanting con- 
si^lerations, which may, in some degree, tend to ac- 
count even for this acknowledged difiiculty. 

In the first place, there is a very extraordinory per- 
sonage mentioned in Scripture, whose existence it is 
the fashion of the present day to doubt and to deride, 
and to explain away some of the most striking eifects 
of his power into allegory, metaphor, vision, and ima- 
gination. He is, notwithstanding described by the 
sacred writers in the plainest and the clearest terms, 
and represented as a being of high rank, of great pow- 



272 SERMON XXI. 

cr, and prodigious art and strength. The names there 
given him are, Satan, Beelzebub, the Devil, and the 
Prince of the Devils ; and he appears to be in a state 
of perpetual hostility against God and Christ, and this 
k)wer world, over which he has very considerable in- 
fluence. He is described by our Saviour under the 
image of a strong man^^ whom it was necessary to bind 
before you could spoil his house. He is called the 
Prince of the Power of the Airf ; the Prince of this - 
WorldJ; and, by St. Paul, the God of this World||. 
He is represented as being at the head of a numerous 
and formidable host of wicked spirits ; to whom St. 
Paul gives the title of principalities, and powers, and 
rulers of this world §. And in another place they are 
said to be his angels^. To this malignant and insidi- 
ous Being was owing the fall of our first parents, and 
all the tragical consequences of that fetal event, the in- 
troduction of death and sin, and every kind of natural 
and moral evil, into the world. On these ruins of hu- 
man nature did this tremendous spirit erect his infernal 
throne, and established an astonishing dominion over 
the minds of men, leading them into such acts of folly, 
stupidity, and wickedness, as are on no other prin- 
ciple to be accounted for; into the grossest super- 
stitions, into the most brutal and senseless idolatry, 
into the most unnatural and abominable crimes, 
into the most execrable rites and inhuman sacrifice**. 
Nay, what is still more deplorable, he gave the finish- 
ing stroke to the disgrace and humiliation of mankind, 
by setting up himself 7i^ the object of their adoration, 
and that too (to complete the insult) under that very 
form which he had assumed to betray and to destroy 
them ; I mean that of the serpent : the worship of 
which disgusting and odious animal, it is well known, 
prevailed to an incredible degree in almost every part 
of the Pagan world, and is still to be found in some 

* Matth. xii. 29. f Ephes. ii. 2. 1 Jolm xli. 31. 

II 2 Cor. iv, 4. § Ephes, vi.^12. <f Matth. xxv, 41. 

** Nothing less than diabolical influence can account for the almost uni- 
versal custoiTi of hunnan sacrifices, and the attrocious outrages on all decency 
perpetrated in some of the sacred rites of Egypt, Greece, and Hindoetan. 
bQ& Maiirice^s Indian Antiquities, vol. i. p. 256. 274. 



SERMON XXI. 273 

parts of Africa*. In this manner did Satan lord it 
over the human race, till our blessed Saviour appear- 
ed on earth. At that time his tyranny seems to have 
arrived at its utmost height, and to have extended to 
the bodies as well as to the souls of men, of both which 
he sometimes took absolute possession ; as we see in 
the history of those unhappy persons mentioned in 
Scripture, whom we call Demoniacs, and who were 
Xry\y %2Xdi\.oh^ possessed by the devil. It was there- 
fore necessary, in order to accomplish the complete 
Redemption of mankind, to subdue in the first place 
this their most formidable and determined enemy, to 
destroy his power, to overthrow his kingdom, and to 
rescue all the sons of men from that horrible and dis- 
graceful state of slavery, in which he had long held 
them enthralled. Now to execute a w ork of such 
magnitude and such difficulty, some agent of extraor- 
dinary rank, and extraordinary authority and power, 
was plainly necessary. Such a personage was our bles- 
sed Lord ; who therefore spontaneously undertook, 
and successfully accomplished, this most arduous en- 
terprize. The very first preparatory step he took be- 
fore he entered on his ministry was, to establish his 
superiority over this great enemy of the human race, 
which he did in that memorable scene of the tempta- 
tion in the wilderness. And throughout the whole of 
his future life, there appears to have been a constant 
and open enmity and warfare between Christ and Beel- 
zebub, between the Prince of this world and the Saviour 
of it, between the Powers of Darkness and the Spirit- 
ual Light of the world, between the kingdom of Satan 
and the kingdom of Jesus. When all this is taken 
into consideration, it will no longer be a matter of sur- 
prise, that the beloved Son of God himself should con- 
descend to come among us, unworthy as we are of 
such a distinction. For nothing less than his almighty 

* See Bryant'' s Ancient Mythology, \o\. i. de ophlolatria. — A serpent was 
adored in Egypt as an eiinblem of ihe divine nature ; and in Cashmere there 
were no less thaii 700 places where carved figures of snakes were worship- 
ped. Maurice's Indian Antiquities, vol. i. p. 291. At Whydah, on 

the Gold Coast, a snake is the principal object cf worship. See Evidence 
on the Slave Trade. 

LI 



^74 SEllMON XXI. ' 

power could probably have vanquished that dreadful 
adversary we had to deal widi, and whose defeat and 
humiliation appear to have been essentially necessary 
to our salvation^. 

There is still another consideration, which merits 
some regard in this question. 

It is, I believe, generally taken for granted, that it 
was for the human race alone that Christ suffered and 
died ; and we are then asked, with an air of triumph, 
whether it be conceivable, or in any degree credibicj 
that the eternal Son of God should submit to so much 
indignity and so much misery for the fallen, the wick- 
ed, the wretched inhabitants of this small globe of 
earth, which is as a grain of sand to a mountain, a 
mere speck in the universe, when compared with that 
immensity of worlds, and systems of worlds, which 
the sagacity of a great modern astronomer has discov- 
ered in the boundless regions of spacef . 

But on what ground is it concluded, that the bene- 
fits of Christ's death extend no further than to our^ 
selves ? As well might we suppose, that the sun was 
placed in the firmament merely to illuminate and ta 
warm this earth that we inhabit. To the vulgar and 
the illiterate, this actually appears to be the case. But 
philosophy teaches us better things. It enlarges out* 
contracted viev/s of divine beneficence, and brings us 
acquainted with other planets and other worlds, which 
share with us the cheering influence and the vivifying 
warmth of that glorious luminary. Is it not then a fair 
analogy to conclude, that the great Spiritual Light of 
the world, the Fountain of life, and health, and joy to 
the soul, does not scatter his blessings over the crea- 
tion with a more sparing hand, and that the Sun of 
Kighteousness rises with healing in his wings to other 
orders of beings besides ourselves ? Nor does this con- 
clusion rest on analogy alone. It is evident from Scrip- 
ture itself, that v/e are by no means the only creatures 

* See John xii. 31 ; xiv. 30 ; xyi. 11. 2 Cor. iv. 4. Ephes. ii. 2 ; vi 
12. C(4. il. 15 — ''Through death, he destroy eel hiiii that had the powet 
•' cf d'iath ; thiit is, the devil.'*. Heb. ii. 14. 
-!• Dr. Herschcll. 



SERMON XXL 275^ 

in the universe interested in the sacrifice of our Re- 
deemer. We are expressly told, that as ** by him 
*' were all things created that are in heaven and that 
** are in earth, visible and invisible; and by him all 
** thing consist : so by him also was God pleased 
*' (having made peace through the blood of his cross) 
*' to reconcile all things unto himself whethei' they be 
" things in earthy or things in hea'oen : that in the dis- 
" pensation of the fulness of times, he might gather 
** together in one all things in Christy both which are 
*' in heaijen^ and which are on earth, e'ven inhim^."^^ 

From intimations such as these, it is highly probable, 
that in the great work of Redemption, as well as of 
Creation, there is a vast stupendous plan of wisdom, 
cf which we cannot at present so much as conceive the 
whole compass and extent. And if we could assist 
and improve the mental as we can the corporeal sight ; 
if we could magnify and bring nearer to us, by the 
help of instruments, the great component parts of the 
spiritual, as we do the vast bodies of the natural world ; 
there can be no doubt, that the resemblance and analo- 
gy would hold between them in this as it does in many 
other well-known instances ; and that a scene of won- 
ders would burst in upon us from the one, at least 
equal, if not superior, to those, which the united pow- 
ers of astronomy and of optics disclose to us in the other. 

If this train of reasoning be just, (and who is there 
that will undertake to say, much more to prove that it 
is not so?) if the Redemption wrought by Christ ex- 
tended to other worlds, perhaps many others besides 
our own ; if its virtues penetrate even into heaven 
itself; if it gather together (^// things in Christ ; who 
will then say, that the dignity of the agent was dispro- 
portioned to the magnitude of the work ; and that it 
was not a scene sufficiently splendid for the Son of God 
himself to appear upon, and to display the riches of 
his love, not only to the race of man, but to many 
other orders of intelligent beings ? 

* Col. i. 16. 20. Eph. i. 10. 



276 SERMON XXI. 

Upon the whole, it is certainly unpardonable in such 
a creature as man to judge of the system of our Re- 
demption, from that very small part of it which he now 
sees; to reason as if we ourselves were the only per- 
sons concerned in it, and on that ground to raise cavils, 
and difficulties, and objections, and represent the cross 
of Christ as foolishness, when, alas, it is we only that 
are foolish I 

There may undoubtedly be many other ways in 
which the Redemption of man might have been effect- 
ed. But this we are sure of, that the w-ay in which it 
is effected, is the wisest and the best, for this plain rea- 
son, because the wisest and the best of Beings has cho- 
sen it. It has been shown, that even with our short- 
sighted faculties, and with our very imperfect know- 
ledge of the subject, we can discover some reasons 
which might render this way of redeeming us 
preferable to any other ; and we have seen also, that it 
may have a relation to other beings, whose situation 
and circumstances, if fully and clearly made known 
to us, w^oulcl probably furnish us with still strong- 
er reasons to admire and adore the wisdom of God's 
proceedings towards his creatures. But even admitting, 
that the benefits of this most extraordinary dispensation 
were designed to reach no flirther than this world, and 
that Christ died solely *' for us men, and for our sal- 
*' vation ;" what other rational conclusion can be 
drawn fi^om this supposition, than that we ought to be 
impressed with a deeper and a livelier sense of his un- 
boiinded goodness to the children of men ? 

That the Son of God should feel such compassion 
for the human race, as voluntarily to undertake the 
great and arduous, and painful task of rescuing them 
fi'om death, and sin, and misery ; that for this purpose 
he should condescend to quit the bosom of his Father, 
and the joys of heaven ; should divest himself of the 
glory that he had before the world began ; should not 
only take upon himself the nature of man, but the form 
of a servant ; should submit to a low and indigent coiv-. 
dition, to indignities, to injuries and insults, and at 



SERMON XXL 277 

length to a disgraceful and excruciating death, is indeed 
a mystery. But it is a mystery of kindness and of 
mercy ; it is as the apostle truly calls it, ** a love that 
** passeth knowledge*;" a degree of tenderness, pity, 
and condescension, to which we have neither words 
nor conceptions in any degree equal. It is impossible 
for us, whenever we reflect upon it, not to cry out with 
the Psalmist, '* Lord, what is man that thou art mindful 
** of him, and the son of man that thou visitest 
*« himf.'* 

And what effect should this reflection have upon our 
hearts ? Should it dispose us to join with the disputer 
of this world, in doubting and denying the wisdom of 
the iVlmighty in the plan of our redemption, and in 
quarrelling with the means he has made use of to save 
us, because they appear to our weak understandings 
strange and unaccountable ! Shall the man who is 
sinking under a mortal disease, refuse the medicine 
which will infallibly restore him, because he is ignorant 
of the ingredients of which it is composed ? Shall the 
criminal who is condemned to death, reject the pardon 
that is unexpectedly offered him because he cannot con- 
ceive in what manner and by what means it was obtain- 
ed for him ? Shall we, who are all criminals in the sight 
of God, and are all actually (till redeemed by Christ) 
under the sentence of death ; shall we strike back the 
arm that is graciously stretched out to save us, merely 
because the mercy offered to us is so great, that we 
are unable to grasp with our understanding the whole 
extent of it ? Shall the very magnitude, in short, of 
the favor conferred upon us, be converted into an ar- 
gument against receiving it ; and shall we determine 
not to be saved, because God chuses to doit not in 
our way, but his own ? 

That in this and many other instances his ways are 
mysterious, and past finding out, is undoubtedly true. 
But let it be remembered always, that the mysterous 
part relates only to what he has done for us ; what w^e 
have to do (which is all that it concerns us to know) is 

* Eph. iii. 19, t Psalin vin. 4. 



273 SERMON XXI. 

perfectly clear and intelligible. It is nothing more than 
this, that we prostrate ourselves with all humility be- 
fore the throne of grace, and adore the goodness of our 
Maker in consenting, on any terms to extend his mercy^ 
to us ; that we embrace, with gratitude and thankful- 
ness, the great salvation offered to us by the death of 
Christ, and exert our utmost endeavors to render our- 
selves capable of sharing in the benefits of that sacri- 
fice, by fulfilling the conditions, the only conditions, on 
which we can be admitted to partake of it ; that is, '* by 
*' denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, and liv- 
** ing soberly, righteously, and godly in this present? 
^\ world*," 

♦Tit. ii. 12. 



SERMON XXIL 



Psalm iv. 4. 

Commune tvith your own heart, and in your cJiamber, a7id be stilt, 

TO commune with our own hearts, is, in the l^n* 
guage of Scripture, to retreat from the world, and 
give ourselves up to private meditation and reflection. 
But as the subjects of our meditation may be very dif- 
ferent, in order to know what kind of self-communion 
is here meant, we must consider the purposes which 
the Psalmist had in view. These purposes are speci- 
fied in the former part of the verse, *' Stand in awe, 
*' and sin not ;'' to which is immediately subjoined, as 
the means of impressing this sacred awe upon the mind, 
*' Commune with your own heart, and in your chara- 
*' ber, and be still." The design, therefore, of the 
self-communion here recommended is, to restrain us 
from vice ; to cherish and improve the seeds of vir- 
tue ; to give us leisure for examining into the state of 
our souls : to stamp upon our hearts a love of God and 
a reverence of his laws ; to make us, in short, *' stand 
*^ in awe, and sin not." 

Such is the purport of the injunction in the text : and 
a more important one it is not easy to imagine : it is, 
indeed, an essential and indispensible requisite towards 
our well-being, both here and hereafter. For if we 
will never stand still and consider, how is it possible 
we should ever go on well ? Yet, notwithstanding the 
evident necessity of reflection to an intelligent and ac- 
countable being, a very large part of mankind seem to 



^80 SERMON XXII. 

have formed a resolution never to think at all. They 
take the utmost pains that they maj never experience 
the misfortune of finding themselves alone and still, may 
never have a single moment left for serious recollect 
tion. They plunge themselves into vice ; they dissi- 
pate themselves in amusement ; they entangle them- 
selves in business ; they engage in eager and endless 
pursuits after riches, honors, power, fame, every 
trifle, every vanity that strikes their imagination ; and 
to these things they give themselves up, body and soul, 
without ever once stopping to consider what they are 
doing and where they are going, and what the conse- 
quence must be of all this wiidness and folly. In vain 
does Reason itself sometimes represent to them, that 
if jjiere really be another state of existence, it is insanity 
never to concern themselves about it : in vain does 
God command them, '' to watch and pray, and to 
" work out their salvation with fear, and trembling ;'' 
in vain does Religion call upon them to w ithdraw a lit- 
tle from the busy scene around them, to retire to their 
own chamber, to be there quiet and still, to commune 
with their own hearts, to prostrate themselves before 
God, to lament their sins, to acknowledge their wretch- 
edness, and entreat forgiveness through the merits of 
their Redeemer. Against all these admonitions they shut 
their ears, and harden their hearts ; and press forward 
with intrepid gaiety in the course they are emarked in, 
which they insist upon to be the only wise one. To 
that wisdom then, and the fruits of it, we must leave 
them, with our earnest prayers to God, that they may 
see all things that belong to their peace before they are 
for ever hid from their eyes. But whatever may be- 
come of this giddy unthinking multitudCj we, my breth- 
ren, who are brought here by a sense of duty, must see, 
that if we hope either to understand that duty, or to 
fulfil it, we must sometimes retire and think of it. 
Even the best and greatest of men, have found this 
self communion necessary to preserve them from sin 
and error. The royal Psalmist more especially, who 
gave- us the precept, enforced it powerfully by his own 



SERMON XXII. 281 

example. Though no one was more attentive to the 
interests of his people, and good government of his 
kingdom, had a greater variety of weighty objects to 
engage his thoughts, more difficulties to encounter, or 
more temptations to combat than he ; yet he never suf- 
fered either business, grief, or pleasure, so entirely to 
possess his soul, as to exclude the great concerns of 
Religion ; but wherever or however situated, he found 
time to commune with himself ; he frequently retired 
at morning, and evening, and noon-day, to review his 
conduct, to examine into the state of his soul, and 
search out his spirits, to bless God for his past mer- 
cies, or implore his future protection. Those anima- 
ted compositions he has left us under the name of 
Psalms, are, in general, nothing more than the fervent 
expressions of his piety on these occasions, the con- 
versations he held with his own heart. It is in these 
he unbosoms himself without reserve, and pours forth 
his whole soul before God. We are admitted into the 
deepest recesses, and see the most secret workings, of 
his mind. We see him possessed alternately with hopes 
and fears, doubt and confidence, sorrow^ and joy ; and 
agitated, by turns, with all those different passions and 
emotions which the different aspects of his soul, on the 
most careful review, would naturally excite. By these 
well-timed retreats he prevented any presumptuous sin, 
if not from accidentally surprizing him, yet at least 
from getting the dominion over him ; and though he 
sometimes slipt, and sometimes even fell, yet he in- 
stantly rose again, more vigorous and alert to the dis- 
charge of his duty. 

But we have this practice of self-communion recom- 
mended to us by a still holier and brighter example, 
that of the blessed Jesus himself. The nature of his mis- 
sion, indeed, and the boundless benevolence of his tem- 
per, necessarily led him to mingle in society ; to listen 
to every call of humanity ; to go about doing good, heal- 
ing diseases, relieving infirmities, correcting errors, re- 
nioving prejudices, forgiving sins, inculcating re- 
pentance ; promoting piety, justice, charity, peace, 

Mm 



28^ ' SERMON XXII. 

harmonyv courtesy, cheerfulness among men ; crowcf^ 
ing, in short into the narrow compass of his ministry^ 
more acts of humanity and kindness, than the longest 
life of the most beneficent man on earth ever yet pro- 
duced. Yet, in this active course of life, we find him 
frequently breaking away from the crowds that sur- 
rounded him, and betaking himself to privacy and soli> 
tude. The desert, the mountain, and the garden, were 
scenes which he seemed to love, and with which he 
took all opportunities of refreshing himself ; pur- 
chasing them sometimes even at the expense of night- 
watches, when the day had been wholly taken up in the 
cilices of humanity, and the business of his mission. 
Here it was he spent vvhole hours in pious contempla- 
tion and fervent prayer ; in adoring the goodness of 
God to mankind ; in expressing, on his own part, the 
utmost submission to his divine will ; in reviewing the 
progress, and looking to the completion, of the great 
work he had undertaken ; in confirming his resolutions, 
and strengthening his soul against the severe trials he 
was to undergo in the prosecution of it. From these 
retreats, and these holy meditations, he came out 
again into public, not gloomy and languid, not dis- 
gusted with the world and discontented with himself, 
but with recruited spirits, and a redoubled ardor of 
benevolence ; prepared to run again his wonted course, 
and to pour fresh benefits and mercies on mankind. 

if then not only the pious author of the text, but 
the divine Author of our faith himself, found retire- 
ment and recollection necessary to the purposes of a 
holy life, there can be little doubt of its use and im- 
portance to all that are desirous of treading in their 
steps. But I shall endeavor to shew still more dis- 
tinctly the advantages attending it, by laying before 
you the following considerations ; considerations, which 
the present holy season*, set apart for the practice of 
this very duty, will, I hope, assist in pressing home 
upon your hearts. 

* This Sermon was preached at St. James* Chapel on iht first day of 
Lent, Feb. 6, 178Sv 



SERMON XXII. fS5 

I. In the first place, it is a truth too notorious 
to be denied, and too melancholy not to be la- 
mented, that the objects of sense, which here sur- 
round us, make a much deeper impression upon the 
mind than the objects of our faith. And the reason is 
plain. It is, because the things that are temporal are 
seen ; are perpetually soliciting our senses, and forcing 
themselves upon our observation ; whilst the things 
that are eternal, merely because they are not seen, and 
therefore want the advantage of continual importunity 
and solicitation, have but little influence upon our 
hearts. It is, therefore, the first and most obvious 
use of retirement, to take off our attention from the 
things of this world, and thereby to destroy, for a time 
at least, their attractions. When they cease to be seen, 
or are seen only in imagination, ihey lose, in a great 
measure, their dominion over us. We can then con- 
template them in their real forms, stript of that false 
glare with which they are apt to dazzle our eyes and 
mislead our understandings. We then plainly see, 
how little thev can boast of intrinsic worth, how much 
they owe to the warmth of fancy, the tumult of passion, 
the ardor of pursuit, and the hurry of the world. For 
as these causes no longer operate in the stillness of re- 
tirement, every charm that they bestowed drops off, 
and vanishes with them ; the objects of our pursuit 
shrink to their proper dimensions ; and we are amazed 
to see them reduced in an instant almost to nothing, 
and so little left of all that we gazed at with so much 
admiration, and followed with so much eagerness. 

II. If at the same time that we recede from this 
world we turn our eyes upon the next, we shall reap a 
double advantage from our self-communion. By fre- 
quently meditating on the concerns of eternity, we 
bhall begin to perceive their reality, and at last to feel 
their influence. Spiritual meditations are at first very 
irksome and disagreeable, not because they are unna- 
tural, but because they are unusual. Give but the 
soul a little respite, a moment's breathing, from the 
iaicessant importunity of cares and pleasures, and she 



284 SERMON XXII. 

will almost naturally raise herself towards that hea- 
venly country, where she hopes at last to find rest and 
happiness. Every faculty and power, both of the body 
and mind, are perfected by use ; and it is by the same 
means that the eye of faith is also strengthened, and 
taught to carry its views to the remotest futurity. By 
degrees we shall learn to allow for the distances of 
spiritual^ as we do every day for those of sensible, ob- 
jects ; and, by long attention to their greatness, forget 
or disregard their remoteness, and see them in their 
full size and proportion. A taste for religious medita- 
tions will grow upon us every day ; and, by constant 
perseverance, we shall so refine our sentiments and pu- 
rify our affections, as to become what the Scriptures 
call spiritually minded ; to live, as it were, out of the 
body ; and to walk by faith as steadily and as surely 
as we used "to do by sight. 

III. Nothing is so apt to wear off that reverence of 
virtue, and abhorrence of vice, with which all M^ell- 
principled men enter intoXh^ world, as a constant com- 
merce njoltb the world. If we have had the happiness 
of a good education, our first judgments of men and 
things are generally right. We detest all appearance 
of baseness, artifice, and hypocrisy; we love every 
thing that is fair, open, honest, and generous. But 
how seldom does it happen, that we carry these senti- 
ments along with us, and act in conformity to them, 
through life ? How seldom does it happen, that we are 
proof against the freedom of conversation, or the con- 
tagion of example, which insensibly corrupt the sim- 
plicity of our hearts, and distort the uprightness of our 
opinions. We are aware, perhaps, of the open attacks 
upon our virtue, which every one may see, and guard 
against, if he pleases ; but it is not every one that sees 
those more secret enemies, that are perpetually at work, 
undermining his integrity. It is scarce possible to be 
always with the multitude, without falling in with its 
sentiments, and following it to do evil, though we ne- 
ver intended it. The crowd carries us involuntarily for- 
ward, without our seeming to take one step ourselves 
in the way that they are going. 



SERMON XXII. 285 

We learn, by degrees, to think with less abhorrence 
on what we see every day practised and applauded. 
We learn to look on bad examples with complacency ; 
and it is but too easy a transition, from seeing vice 
without disgust, to practising it without remorse. We 
quickly find out the art of accommodating our duty to 
our interests, and making our opinions bend to our 
inclinations. We lose sight of the honest notions we 
first set out with, and adopt others more pliant in their 
stead. The issues of life thus corrupted, the infection 
soon spreads itself to our actions. We are enslaved 
by habits, without feeling the chain thrown over us, 
and become guilty of crimes, which we once could 
not think of without shuddering. It is therefore, of 
the last consequence, to step aside sometimes from the 
world, in order to compare our present way of think- 
ing and acting with our past ; to try and sift ourselves 
thoroughly ; *' to search out our spirits, and seek the 
*' very ground of our hearts ; to prove and examine 
'' our thoughts ; to look well, extremely well, if there 
'* be any way of wickedness in us ; that if there be, we 
'' may turn from it into the way everlasting." 

IV. As by frequently conversing with a man, we 
may gain a tolerable insight into his true temper and 
disposition ; so a repeated communion with our own 
hearts brings us intimately and entirely acquainted 
with them ; discovers to us their weak sides, tiieir 
leading propensities, and ruling foibles. It lays open 
to us all their windings and recesses, their frauds and 
subtleties. We penetrate through the thin covering 
of their fair pretences, into their real motives. We 
see, that in most cases it is hazardous to indulge their 
suggestions too easily and too often ; we see, that one 
compliance only paves the way for a second, till we 
have it no longer in our power to refuse their solicita- 
tions. Hence we learn to be jealous of their erlcroach- 
ments, and to suspect their most specious proposals. 
We keep a strict eye over all their motions, and guard 
every issue of life with the utmost diligence. By tra- 
cing the progress of our passion on former occasions, 



286 SERMON XXIL 

aiid observing the fatal mischiefs that followed from 
suffering them to gain the ascendancy over us, we shall 
learn the proper art of managing and subduing them ; 
we shall acquire that extremely necessary science of 
self-government, those admirable habits of prudence 
and circumspection, which, however by some men neg- 
lected and despised, w^e shall find to be exceedingly 
conducive to right conduct and real happiness. With^ 
out thus reflecting on our past miscarriages, and en- 
quiring into their causes, we must for ever fall into the 
same mistakes, be deceived by the same appearances, 
surprized by the same artifices, and lose the only con- 
solation (poor as it is) which our past follies and trans- 
gressions can afford us, experience. 

Such are the more general uses of religous retire- 
ment and reflection : but they will have more peculiar 
advantages, according to the peculiar situation that we 
are placed in. 

If Providence has cast our lot in a fair ground, has 
given us a goodly heritage, and blessed us with a large 
proportion of every thing that is held most valuable in 
this world, rank, power, wealth, beauty, health, and 
strength ; though we may then, perhaps, be less dis- 
posed^ yet have we more occasion for self-communion 
than ever. Reflection will, at that time, be particular- 
ly needful, to cheek the extravagance of our joy; to 
preserve us from vanity and self-conceit ; to k€ep our 
pampered appetites in subjection ; to guard us from 
the dangers of prosperity and the temptations of luxury, 
from dissipation and debauchery, from pride and inso- 
lence, from that wanton cruelty aud incredible hardness 
of heart, which high spirits and uninterrupted hap- 
piness too often produce. Instead of these wild ex- 
cesses, religious meditation will turn the overflowings 
of our gladness into their proper channels, into praises 
and thanksgivings to the gracious Author of our hap- 
piness, and a liberal communication to others of the 
blessings we enjoy ; which are the only proper ex- 
pressions of our thankfulness, and the only suitable re- 
turn for such distinguishing marks of the divine favor. 



SERMON XXII. 287 

" If, on the contrary, we are oppressed with a multi- 
tude of sorrows, with poverty or disease, with losses 
and disappointments, the persecution of enemies, or 
the unkindness of friends, it is to retirement we must 
fly for consolation ; not to indulge ourselves in the sul- 
len satisfaction of a secret melancholy, much less to 
vent the bitterness of our heart in frantic exclamations, 
and indecent reflections on the dispensations of Provi- 
dence ; but after pouring ont our souls before God, to 
go at once to the bottom of the evil, to search for the 
causes of our affliction where they are too often, alas ! 
to be found, but where we very seldom think of look- 
ing for them, in the follies and miscarriages of our own 
conduct. And if we are so happy as to discover, and 
so wise as to correct them, we shall then have fulfilled 
the end which these sorrows were probably designed to 
answer, and " it will be even good for us to have been 
" in trouble." 

How absolutely necessary recollection is to those who 
are immersed in vice, is too obvious to be insisted on. 
If, indeed, they have cast off all thoughts of Religion, 
and are determined to sin on to the last, they are then in 
the right of it to avoid this self communion, and to 
decline all conversation with a friend that might tell 
them very disagreeable truths. Their only business is 
then, not to encourage, but to stifle, reflection ; and, 
after forgetting their Maker, and every thing they 
ought to remember, to forget themselves too, if they 
can. But if the}^ are touched with a sense of their 
danger, and a desire of amendment, their first step is 
certainly to retire and recollect themselves. This, 
indeed, in general, is all that is necessary. *' I called 
" mine own ways to remembrance," says David; and 
immediately adds, as an almost necessary consequence, 
and '' turned my feet unto thy testimonies." '' I made 
•'* haste, and prolonged not the time to keep thy com- 
" mandments." This must ever be the result of a 
serious deliberation. The truths of Religion, more es- 
pecially of the Christian Religion, are so clear and con- 
vincing; the contrast between vice and virtue, good 



Sas SERMON XXII. 

and evil, so striking; the disproportion between a mo- 
ment of pleasure and an eternity of pain, so glaring and 
undeniable; that they want nothing more than consider- 
.ation to give them their proper weight, insomuch, that 
to think is to believe and to be saved. 

To such as are already entered on the paths of virtue, 
but are yet at a great distance from Christian perfection, 
it will be highly useful to stop sometimes, and consider 
what they have slready done, and what they have still 
to do ; sometimes, to prevent despair, by looking back 
on the dangers they have past, and sometimes to excite 
vigilance, by looking forwards to those before them ; to 
renew, from time to time, their petitions to the Throne 
of Grace, for that succor and assistance which is so 
necessary to support them ; and above all, to refresh 
their hopes and invigorate their resolutions, by fre- 
quently looking up to that crown of glory, which will 
so amply recompence all their labors. 

Nor does even the highest degree of perfection that 
human nature can arrive at, place a m^an above the ne- 
cessity of calling his ways to remembrance. Nay, 
perhaps, recollection is then peculiarly necessary, be- 
cause we are apt to think it least so. *' Let him that 
** thinketh he stands, take heed lest he fall." No 
sooner do we suppose ourselves out of the reach of 
danger, than we cease to be so. It becomes us, 
therefore, to be jealous of our very virtues, and to let 
our vigilance and circumspection keep pace with our 
improvements. Our condition in this life is represent- 
ed in Scripture as a continual warfare ; and we have a 
very subtle adversary. to deal with, who is always upon 
the watch to take advantage of our security. The good 
soldier of Christ, therefore, will use the same caution 
in his spiritual as he would in his temporal warfare ; 
he will observe the same discipline after a victory, as 
when success was dubious ; for no stratagem has been 
so often practised, and has so often succeeded, as that 
of surprizing a victorious, and therefore unguarded 
enemy. 



SiERiMON XXll. 289 

tt must be observed loo, that virtue as well as know- 
ledge is progressive, and if we do not gain ground, m e 
k)se it. There is always some perfection to be ac^ 
quired, or some imperfection to be amended. If we 
are not constantly strengthening the barriers opposed 
to our passions, by successively accumulating one good 
principle upon another, they will grow weaker every 
day, and expose us to the hazard of some sudden and 
violent overthrow. It is astonishing how much the 
Very best men find to do, even when they are regular 
and punctual in reviewing their conduct ; how many 
errors they liave to rectify, how many omissions to 
Supply, how many excesses to retrench, how many 
growing desires to control. The more frequently they 
do this, the more they will see the necessity and 
feel the advantage of it. They will have the pleasure 
too of observing, how much they increase in goodness 
and grow in grace, and this will animate them to still 
higher attainments* They will never think themselves 
sufficiently advanced in holiness ; but " forgetting those 
" things that are behind, and reaching forth to those 
*' things that are before j they will go on from strength 
'' to strength j and press forward towards the mark, to 
*' the prize of the high calling of God in ChristJesus*.'* 

Universally, therefore, to every person, in every 
condition of life, in every stage of his spiritual pro- 
gress, frequent SELF-COMMUNION is an indispensable 
duty. If we are accountable beings, and that we are, 
not only the Sacred Writings declare, but our facul- 
ties, our feelings, our consciences, irresistibly prove 
to us ; if we cannot^ without the utmost hazard, go 
on at random, as appetite prompts or accident leads 
us ; if every step we take in our moral conduct must 
bring us nearer to heaven or to hell ; surely it behoves 
us to call our ways seriously and frequently to remem- 
brance ; to consider them with the utmost care and cir- 
cumspection, and observe where they terminate, and 
to what point they will carry us. Should we find our- 
selves in tlie right way, we shall have the satisfaction 

* Phil. iii. 13. Psj^ Ixxxlw 7. 

Nn 



!290 SERMON XXIT. 

of going on in the consciousness of being right, and of 
acting well upon principle. Should we have departed 
widely from the path of our duty, it will be high time 
for us to return to it, lest we go too far to retreat, and 
rush thoughtlessly forward into irretrievable destruction. 
If w^e have deviated but slightly, we shall prevent this 
deviation from growing insensibly wider, and regain 
the ground we have lost with little trouble or pain. 
In many thmgs we oiFend all, even the very best of 
us ; and- it is far more wise and prudent to find out 
these offences by reflection, and to correct them by 
suitable resolutions, than to let them accumulate by 
neglect, till some j^ital mischief awake us to a sense of 
our duty, or the stroke of death render it no longer 
practicable. This single consideration, the possibility 
of being called, even the healthiest and the youngest 
of us, suddenly and unexpectedly called, to give an- 
account of ourselves to God, before we have properly 
settled that account, is of itself enough to make us re- 
flect on our condition, and to do it also without delay. 
We see almost every day ©f our lives the most stri- 
king and affecting instances of our precarious condition. 
We see our friends and neighbors suddenly snatched 
away from us, at a time when we (perhaps they too) 
least expected it. We see multitudes of others drop 
around us, one by one, till we are left almost alone iir 
a wide world, deserted by all those whom we most in- 
timately knew and esteemed. Yet all tiiis seems to 
make little or no impression upon us. We follow our 
ncquaintances to the grave ; we diDp^ perhaps, a few 
parting, unavailing tears over them, and then return 
again to the cares, the pleasures, the follies and the 
vices, of the world, with as much eagerness and alac- 
rity as if nothing at all had happened that in the least 
concerned ourselves ; as if there w-as not the least 
chance or possibility, that the danger, which we see so 
near us, should at last come home to us. But, surely, 
these convincing, these alarming proofs of our mortal- 
ity, ought to have a -little more effect on our hearts* 
Wlien we see thousands fail beside us^ and ten thou- 



SERMON XXII. 2Pl 

sands at our right hand, we ought to reflect, that oiir 
turn may, perhaps, be next ; that, at the very best, 
we have no time to lose, and that it highly behoves us 
to call our ways immediately to remembrance ; to 
make haste, (for death will not wait for us) to make 
haste, and prolong not the time, to keep God's com- 
mandments. When, in short, we consider the ex- 
treme uncertainty of life, and the absolute certainty of 
appearing before our Judge in the very same state in 
which that life is taken away from us, with all our sins 
and all our infirmities to answer for, we can never con- 
sent to trust our all on so precarious a bottom, nor to 
let our most important concerns lie at the mercy of eve- 
ry accident that may befal us. The loss of a year, the 
loss of a day, may be the loss of Heaven. ** Thou 
'* fool, this night shall thy soul be required of thee :" 
This was said for our admonition : and if, under this 
apprehension, we can calmly lay ourselves down to 
sleep, without reviewing our conduct or preparing our- 
selves to wake, as we may do, in another world, it is 
in vain to use any further exhortations. If an argu- 
ment so plain, so simple, so forcible, has no influence 
upon our minds, Reason and Religion can do nothing 
more for us ; our obstinacy is incurable, our danger 
inexpressible. 

From that danger, may God of his infinite mercy 
preserve us all, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 



SERMON XXIIL 



1 Sam. xiii. 14. 

The Lord Jmth -sought Itim a man csfter his ovm hearf, xmd the Z-or^ 
hath commanded him t& be captain (xver his people.. 

^nr^HERE is no need to inform you that the person 
JL spoken of in these words is David king of Is- 
rael. The appellation of THE MAi^ after god's owit 
HEART, is a well-known distinction, which having 
never been expressly bestowed on any other, has, by 
long usage, been appropriated solely to himt. The 
reason of his bemg so distinguished, is generally pre* 
sumed to be the excellence of his moral conduct : be- 
cause a God, who is of purer eyes than to behold ini- 
quity, can never be supposed to delight in it ; which 
it is thought must be the case, if the man after his own 
heart was in any degree an immoral man. On the 
strength of this supposition, some mistaken friends of 
Religion, in order to vindicate God's choice, have 
thought it necessary to prove David's private character 
perfectly unexceptionable ; and some inveterate ene- 
mies of Religion, in order to stigmatize that choice, 
have taken no less pains to make him appear completely 

* This semnon was originally written and preached before the Universi- 
ty of CaiTibridge, in the year 1761, in answer to a profane and licentious 
paiTiphlet, which had its day of celebrity and applause among a certain class 
of readers ; but is now, as it deserved to be, and as is the usual fate oi[^ 
such productions, entirely forgot. Those parts of the sermon, therefore, 
which had a more immediate reference to that publication, are noAV omit- 
ted ; and the whole is rendered less polemical and move practical, and of 
course, it is hoped, more generally useful. 

•j- Yet appellations of nearly the same import have been applied to otji'^ 
ers. See below, pp. 102, 3, 4, Sec. 



SERMON XXIIT. 2!)3 

<Ietestable. But both the one and the other seern to nie 
to have mistaken the case, and misapplied their )'bor. 
It was not, I conceive, for the unblemished sanctity of 
his Hfe, but for reasons of a very different nature, that 
King David v^^as distinguished by the honorable title 
assigned to him in the text. 

It is, I believe universally allowed, that the chief de-. 
*ign of God in separating the Jewish nation from the 
rest of mankind, was to perpetuate the knowledge of 
himself by means of this peculiar people, and to pre- 
serve the worship of the one true God amidst an idola- 
trous world. This was the grand foundation of the 
whole Jewish polity ; the main purport of their laws ; 
<the principle of all God's dealings towards them. Who- 
ever, therefore, exerted himself vigorously and effect- 
ually in promoting this great end of the Jewish theoc- 
racy, might, with the strictest propriety, be called a 
man after God's own heart ; because he acted in con- 
formity to the main purpose of God's heart : he did 
the very thing that God wanted to have done ; he for- 
warded the grand design that he had in view. Now 
this was preceisely the character of David, the distin- 
.^uishing excellence of his life. He was a sincere and 
hearty lover of his country, a zealous observer of its 
iaws, in opposition to all idolatry, from which he ever 
kept himself and his people at the utmost distance*. 
It was not therefore, on account of his prhate 'DinueSy 
but his public conduct ; nor for a spotless purity of 
manners, but for his abhorrence of idolatry, and his 
strict adherence to the civil and religiousf laws of his 
country, that David was honored with the name of the 
man after God's own heart J. If any Christian writers 

* See Le Clerc on Acts xiii. 22 ; Patrick on 1 Kings xv. 3, 5. 

I One remarkable instance of David's scnipulcus observance cf the Iav.% 
in punctually complying with the prohibition given in Deut xvii. 16. against 
the use of cavalry in war, see in Bithop Sherlock on Prophecy, Diss. 4, 
^. 370 — 375. And perhaps his invariable obedience to this importani: law, 
" which was to be a standing trial of prince and people, whether they had 
*' trust and confidence in God their deliverer," might contribute not a little 
towards procuring him this so much envied distinc-ion. 

± It is certain that Abraham was called the frik.vd of God, (a dis- 
tinction no less remarkable than king Davie 's) for the reasons here assign- 
ed ; for his adhering to the belief and worship of the one true Gcd, in op- 



694 SERMON XXIH. 

have supposed that this title was the mark of moral 
perfection^ and in consequence of that have exalted Da- 
vid's character into a standard of virtue, they have, 
with a very good meaning perhaps, done a very inju- 
dicious thing. The explanation here given seems most 
agreeable to the language of the Scriptures, to the ge- 
neral tenor of David's conduct, to the nature of the 
Jewish dispensation, and the intentions of its Divine 
Author. * ' 

To what has been urged in favor of this interpreta- 
tion, by a very eminent writer*, may be added, that 
though David is in this single passage called a man af- 
ter God's own heart ; yet it is afterwards only said of 
Him^ in common with several other kings, that he ** did 
*' that which was right in the eyes of the Lordf ;" 
which expression seems intended to convey, and indeed 
maturally does convey, the same meaning as the other. 
For it will not be easy to point out a difference betwixt 
acting *' according to any one's heart," and doing that 
which ** is right in his eyes." By determining there- 
fore the signification of this phrase, w€ shall arrive at 
the true value of that made use of in the text. No\\^ 
the expression of ** doing that which is right in the eyes 
** of the Lord," is constantly and uniformly applied to 
those, who were eminent not so much for their virtues 
in a private, as their zeal in a regal capacity ; for their 
aversion to idolatry, and scrupulous observance of the 
law. Thus, when it is said of AsaJ, that he did that 
which was *' good and right in the eyes of the Lord," 
the reason assigned for it is, " because he took away 
** the altars of the strange gods, and the high places, 
*' and brake down the images, and cut down the groves ; 
" and commanded Judah to seek the Lord God of their 
** fathers, and to do the law and the commandment." 
Not a word of his moral character, though from his do- 
ing that which was not only right but good, one might 

position to the idolatrous nations amongst whom he lived. See Clarke's 
Sermons, vol. ii. Disc. 58. p. 5^. Dublin edition, 1751, and Le Clerc on 
Cen. vi. 9. 

* See Divine Legation of Moses, vol. iii.b. 4. s, 6. p. 354. Sd edit, 
f 1 Kings XY. 5. \2 Chron. xiv. 2, 3, 4. 



SERMON XXIII. 295 

naturally have expected it. Again, when we are told 
that Solomon's heart w^as not perfect with the Lord his 
God ; that he went notyz///y after the Lord as did Da- 
vid his father ; the proof alleged is, that his wives turn- 
ed away his heart after other gods** Whence it evi- 
dently appears, th^ttht perfection of David's heart con- 
aisted principally in his inviolable attachment to the 
worship of the true God, from which he never devi- 
ated or turned aside^ '* either to the right hand or to 
''the left. '> 

If this explanation be, as it appears to be, conform- 
able to truth and Scripture^ the following very useful 
consequences do naturally and immediately flow from it* 

I. That, in order to vindicate God's choice of " a 
'* man after his own heart, '^ or the truth of the Scrip- 
tures in relating it, there is no necessity to prove his 
moral conduct fa tilt ksSy or to obviate all the accusations 
which have been brought against him ; because this 
choice having proceeded on other principles, his pri- 
vate conduct is foreign to the questionf, 

II. That we cannot draw conclusions in favor of any 
crime, so as to justify it in ourselves, from its having 
been committed by a ''^man after God's own heart."' 
Because^ though his conformity to the divine will in 
some very material instances, did justly entitle him to 
that appellation ; yet every vicious excess was in Mm, 
(as it must be in every human creature) the object of 
God's utter detestation, and very often too of his seve- 
rest vengeance. J 

III. That they who have taken so much pains to ri- 
dicule and vilify the character of David, with a view of 

* I Kings xi. 4. 
f It has been observed, that David's moral character seems to be pro- 
nounced faultless, (1 Kings xv. 5.) except in the matter of Uriah. We re- 
ply, that the Scripture in this (as in many other places) muse necessarily be 
understood to speak only in general ; intimating, that king David's conduct 
was, in the main, good and right ; and though he might be guilty of other 
faults, yet none of them were so gross and enormous, so directly repugnant 
to the express cornmands of God, as this ; and therefore not so necessary to 
be poinfed oat, and particularly distinguished. Whoever is well acquainted 
with the Scripture phraseology must allow, that it not only admits, but per- 
petually requires, such restrictions as this. See Matt. v. 48, and Clarke's 
Sermons, vol. ii. p. 404. and vol. v. p. 61. Dublin edition, 8vo. 1751. 



m& SERMON xxrit. 

wounding the authority of the Scriptures through his 
sides^ have only shown their malevolence, without ef- 
fecting their purpose. Because their whole reasoning 
being founded on a presumption, that David was selecu 
led by God^ on account of some peculiar moral excellen- 
cy ; this foundation being withdrawn, the whole super* 
Istructure of cavils and calumnies raised upon it fall* 
entirely to the ground. 

Let it not, however, be inferred from any thing here 
said, that king David^s character ought, by any means/ 
to be viewed in that odious light in which these writers 
have endeavored to place it. For although it must be 
confessed, that his moral conduct is far from being ir» 
reproachable, yet it is no less true, that (excepting those 
known and acknowledged crimes, which no one pre^ 
tends to palliate or deny^ and which he himself deplor- 
ed with the deepest penitence and contrition) every staiii 
which has with so much malevolent industry been 
thrown upon his name^ may be^ to a great degree, if 
not completely, done away* It is not my design to 
enter here into a particular confutation of all the calum- 
nies and accusations which have been brought against^ 
him. It would not be suitable to the nature, or redii** 
cible to the usual bounds of a discourse of this kincj^i*^ 
But as the heaviest, and, indeed, the only plausible 
charge^ which has been urgedj not only against David, 
but the whole Jewish nation^ is that of cruelty, a 
charge which, without any of those exaggerations it has 
received i is of itself apt to make the deepest impres- 
sions on the honestest minds ; for these reasons, I shall 
suggest a few considerations in regard to this particu- 
lar ; which may serve to put the unwary a little upon 
their guard, to remove all unnecessary and invidious ag- 
gravations, and account, in some measure, for what, 
perhaps, can neither be wholly justified nor excused. 

We who live in these enHghtened and polished times, 
when our manners are softened by the liberal arts, and 
our souls humanized by the benevolent spirit of Chris-, 
tianity, are shocked beyond measure at many things, 
which, in the ruder ages of antiquity, were not lookecl 



SERMON XXIII. 297 

upon with so much abhorrence as they deserve. We 
cannot help bringing those transactions home to 
ourselves, referring them to our own age and nation, 
supposing them to be done under the same advanta- 
ges which we at present enjoy, and consequently as 
involving the same degree of guilt that we ourselves 
sJiould incur by the commission of the same crimes. 
But though this is a very natural, it is by no means 
an equitable way of judging. In deciding on the 
merit or demerit of any men, or society of men, in 
a remote period, we ought certainly to take into con- 
sideration the general character of the times in which 
they lived, the peculiar modes of thinking, and rules of 
acting, which then prevailed. If we apply this obser- 
vation to king David, we shall find, that he lived 
in an age when the world was sunk in ignorance and 
barbarity ; when men were divided into a number 
of petty kingdoms, and small communities ; when 
they shut themselves up in '' fenced cities," and 
seldom went out of them but to fight with their 
neighbors ; for every neighbor was of course an ene- 
my.^ Scarce any other art was then known but the 
art of war, which consisted in destroying as many as 
they possibly could, and enslaving the rest. In such 
a state of things it must necessarily follow, that men 
familiarized to blood, and trained up to slaughter, would 
become insensibly steeled against the impressions of 
humanity, and contract a habit of cruelty, which would 
give a tinge to the whole current of their lives, impart 
even to the face of peace itself too sanguine a complex* 
ion, and discolor the whole intercourse of civil, social, 
and domestic offices. We are not then to wonder, 
that the Jews themselves were infected with this epide- 
mical ferocity of manners. We are not to charge 
them with more than their share of the common guilt, 
w^e are not to represent them as people distinguished 
by their cruelty, but as constituting a consistent part 
of a barbarous world. 

* The srate of our own kirgclom under the Saxok heptarchy, may, per- 
haps, give us some faint idea of the barhari'y of all kingdoms in the early 

O o \ 



298 SERMON XXin. 

It may be thought, perhaps, that though this way of 
reasoning is to he admitted in general, yet it has not 
the same force in regard to the Jev* s as when applied 
to any other nation ; because they being God's chosen 
and peculiar people, ought to be found superior in be- 
nevolence, as well as every other virtue, to the rest of 
mankind. But it must ever be remembered, (what 
God himself frequently declares*,) tb^t it was not fiar 
their '' own sakes," for their '' own righteousness," 
that they were chosen, but (as in the particular ease of 
king David above stated) for other reasons ; for pre- 
serving j-he knowledge, and promoting the worship, of 
the one true God ; for manifesting his divine power in 
working miracles, and for executing his judgments on 
those impenitent nations, whose enormous wickedness 
was then ripe for vengeance. The moral goodness 
therefore of the Jews being no peculiar object of 
God's choice, we are not on that account merely to ex- 
pect from them any uncommon degrees of virtue, or 
any exemption from the reigning vices of their age. 

Nay, so little reason have we to expect any extraor- 
dinary instances of humanity from the peculiarity oB 
their circumstances, that this very peculiarity might, 
without great care and circumspection, have been apt 
to give an unfavorable turn to their disposition. The 
distinction bestowed upon them, though not in reality 
for their own merit, yet in preference to tlie rest of the 
world, was not unlikely to inspire them with too high 
an opinion of themselves, and too contemptible a one 
of others. Their exclusion from a free and general 
intercourse with the surrounding nations, (though ab- 
solutely necessary for the most important purposes) 
might, however, tend to contract their notions and con- 
fine their benevolence. That extreme abhorrence in 
which they very justly held the vices of their neighbors, 
might sometimes exceed the bounds of virtuous indig- 
nation : and that unhappy, though necessary, task im- 
posed upon them, of destroying the sinful nations of 
Canaan, might too easily lead them to transgress the 
lawsof humanity on less justifiable occasions. If^ un- 

* Deut. ix. 4, 5. 



SERMON XXIIT. 299 

6er these circumstances, the Jews were not more mhu- 
man than their neighbors, they certainly deserve some 
praise ; if tliey were, there are, you see, many mitiga- 
ting pleas in their favor ; and the blame will not rest, 
either on the temper of the people, or the temper of their 
religion. 

It has, I know, been frequently asserted, that the cru- 
elty of the Jews exceeded that of any other people, not 
only of their own times, but in any age of the world. 
This, however, has been much more confidently ad- 
A^anced than clearly proved. From what little we can 
learn of the nations cotcniporary with the Jews, in 
the early periods of their history, there is not the least 
reason to imagine, that they were of a m.ore niercifui 
disposition ; and if we hear less of their cruelt}', it 
:is because we know less of their history*^ What 
renders this extremely probable is, that in much later 
ages, when the minds of men were greatly softened 
and subdued by the improvements of civil life, we 
meet with much less real, though more ostentatious, 
humanity than amongst the Jews ; and Ibelieve there 
are very kw here, whose recollection will not readily 
supply them vvath repeated instan:ces of cruelty, in 
the most flourishing periods of the most civilized Hea- 
thens, which far surpass any that can be produced from 
tl:ie most sanguinary transactions of the Jewish peoplef. 

Whatever were the inhumanities of the Israelites, 
they had not, however, that aggravation, with w^hich 

* From the horrid custom which \ve know pi-evailecl amongst the Canaan- 
ites of sacrificing their children to their idols, we may rationally presume, 
that the Jews were much outdone in acts of barbarity by their neighboi-s. 

t Several acts of cruelty which have been ascribed to King David and 
the Jewish people, appear, on a more accm-ate exannination, to have been 
grounded on an incorrect translation of particular passages of the Old Tes- 
tament. Thus it is said, 2 Sam. xii. 31. that when Rabbah (the capital 
•city of the Ammonites) was taken, *• David brought forth the people that 
" were therein, and put them under sav/s and under hartows of iron, and 
^' under axes of iron, and made them pass through the brick-kilns." Hence 
it is inferred, that he put them to death with the most exquisite and unheard 
of torments. But it has been shown by several learned critics, that our 
version oF this place Avould have been more accurate, and more stricUy 
conformable to the original, if it had rendered the passage thus : He put 
them to saws and to harrows of iron, and to a.\es of iron, and made them 
:pass 6/ or to the hrick-kilns : that is, he put them to hard labor, with the 
.tools and in the places here specified. See Mr. Ormerod's Remarks (m 
iDr. .Priesley's Disquisitions, kc. 2d ed. p. 72. 



300 SERMON XXIII. 

those of the Pagans were frequently attended, that of 
being exercised on their own countrymen, the^r most 
faithful dependents, their nearest relations, and Clearest 
friends. The proofs of their cruelty are princiipally, 
if not wholly, taken from their treatment of the idola- 
trous nations around them. But when we reflect, that 
the laws of nature, and the rights of nations, were not 
then so clearly ascertained as they have since been ; 
that wars were then waged on savage, unrelenting, 
exterminating principles ; and that those nations which 
felt the weight of their heaviest vengeance, ^vere 
not only their avowed and inveterate enemies, but 
so incorrigible and abominably flagitious* as to call 
aloud for punishment, of which the Jews were only 
instruments in the hand of the Almighty ; it will be ea- 
sily seen, that such proofs are by no means pertinent 
and satisfactory. The truth is, these transient and ca- 
sual instances of cruelty, though they are such as at 
first sight must necessarily strike and offend us most, 
yet are not so proper to determine a national character, 
and denominate a people constitutionally barbarous, as 
those established 2Cixdi permanent maxims of internal and 
domestic cruelty, which never existed in the Jewish 
government, but were universally received and prac- 
tised, were encouraged by the laws, and applauded by 
the historians, of those very nations, who esteemed 
and called all others in respect of themselves barba- 
rians. It is these, which, though less insisted on by 
writers, and less attended to by readers, are yet more 
repugnant to humanity, more destructive to the species, 
and more characteristic and decisive evidences of a ma- 
levolent spirit, than those accidental outrages and ex, 
cesses, on which historians generally lavish all the hor- 
rors of description!. 

* See a detail of their execrable vices, Lev. xviii. 
f There is scarce any author, ancient or modern, who has inveighed ,\yith 
such indiscriminate and unmeasured rancor against the whole Jewish nation, 
as M. Voltaire, There are few of his latter prose publications in which he 
has not introduced this unfortunate people, for the purpose of loading them 
with reproach or ridicule. But his zeal sometimes outruns his prudence and 
his regard to truth, and instead of exciting the indignation of mankin4 
against them, turns it upon himself. Among nujiiberless instances in thii* 
sort, I shall only single out one. \vl his Dktionaire Philosopkique, Art. Ai> 



SERMON XXIir. 501 

I am aware, indeed, that the extirpation of the Ca- 
naanites was enjoined by the Mosaical laws, and that 
the Jews were forbid by no less than Divine authority 
to show them any mercy or compassion. This is true ; 
and at the same time very consistent with a dispensa- 
tion in the main benevolent. For when we consider 
God in the light he should always, with respect to 
those times, be considered in, not only as the common 
Governor of all mankind, but as the more immediate 
Ruler and Legislator of the Jewish nation ; and as en- 
forcing obedience to his authority, amongst the Jews 
in particular, amongst all nations in some measure, by 
temporal punishments and reuards ; it was no more a 
violation of mercy in him to enact, or in them to exe- 
cute, such a penal law against the Canaanites, than it 
would be in a Prince to punish his rebellious subjects 
by tlie hands of his faithful ones, or in them to inflict 
that punishment. Such examples of severity are ne- 
cessary to the very being of a state, and serve at once 
to repress the insolence of the wicked, and to secure 
the obedience of the good*. 

thropnphages , he informs us, that from the time of Ezekiel the Jews must 
have been in the habit of eating human flesh ; because that prophet assures 
them, that if they will defend themselves courageously against the King of 
Persia, they shall not only eat the horses of their enemies, but the horsemen 
and the vciarriors thetnsei'ves. How will the reader be astonished, (if he is 
not a Utile acquainted with the character and manner of M. Voltaire) when, 
on looking into Ezekiel, he finds, that the whole of this is a complete fab- 
rication ; and that it is not the yems, but the ravenous birds and the beasts 
of the field, who, in the bold and figurative language of Prophecy, are called 
upon " to eat the flesh of the m'ghty, and drink the blood of the princes 
" of the earth." Ezek. xxxix. 4, 17, 18, 6ic. 

It is a great pity that this lively writer did not, for his own credit, pay a 
little more regard to tlie sage advice of a friend, who knew him and his 
pratices well, the late King of Prussia. That prince in one of his letters to 
him, alluding to a certain well-known transaction of Voltaire's with a Jewish 
merchant, which his majesty calls a vile business, (and which, perhaps, 
might be one reason of this author's implacable enmity to the whole na- 
tion) says to him, '^ I hope you will have no more quarrels either with the 
" Old Testament or the New. Such contests are dishonorable : and though 
** possessed of more genius than any man in France, you cannot avoid fi- 
*' nally injuring your reputation by the disgrace of such conduct,'* F(*sthu' 
mous Works of Fred. II. vol. vii. lett. 245, p. 402, 

The Jews, however, have met with a very able and eloquent defender in 
the author of Lettres de quelques jfuijs, Portugais, & Altemands, a M. de 
Voltaire. Paris, 1769 — -See also Div. Leg. vol. iv. b. 5. s. 1. p 139. 

* The absolute necessity of extirpating the Canaanites, or at least destroy- 
ing their national polity ; the peculiar propriety of doing this by the sword of 



302 SERMON XXIIL 

If this exception be, as it certainly ought to be, acU 
mitted, and if we make such other equitable allow* 
ances, as the state of Religion and the state of Society, 
at that time, do necessarily require ; the Mosaical law 
win, I am persuaded, appear infinitely superior, in point 
of humanity, to all the institutions of tlie most cele- 
brated lawgivers of antiquity. It abounds with in^ 
junctions of mercy and pity, not only to Jews, but to 
strangers, to enemies, and even to those who had 
most cruelly and injuriously oppressed them. ** If 
*' thy brother be waxen poor and fallen in decay with 
^' thee ; then thou shalt relieve him ; yea, though he 
*' be a stranger or a sojourner, that he may live with 
** thee. Take thou no usury of him, or increase ; but 
'*' fear thy God, that thy brother may live with thee, 
*' Thou shalt not oppress a stranger. Tnou shalt love 
" him as thyself. Thou shalt not abhor an Edomite j 
*' them shalt not abhor an ^Egyptian. If thou meet 
"** thine enemy's ox or his ass going astray, thou shalt 
"surely bring it back to him." The dispositions in 
favor of the poor are truly singular and amiable, 
^' Thou shalt not harden thy heart, nor shut thy hand 
" from thy poor brother .; but thou shalt open tliy 
** hand wide unto him ; and shall surely lend him suf- 
*^ ficient for his need. When ye reap tlie harvest of 
'* your land, thou shalt not wholly reap the coiners of 
" thy field ; neither shalt thou gather the gleanings of 
" thy harvest ; and if thou have forgot a sheaf in the 
** field, thou shalt not go again to fetch it ; and when 
" thou beatest thine oiive-tree, thou shalt not go over 
" the boughs again ; when thou gatherest the grapes 
*' of thy vineyard, thou shalt not glean it afterwards ; 
^* it shall be for the stranger, the fatherless, and the 

widow*"." The provisions made for the security 



£i 



-the Jews ; the great and benevolent purposes that were answered by their 
separation from the world ; the advantages that all other nations derived 
from it ; and many orher particulars of the divine economy with regard to 
this extraordinary people ; see clearly and ably explained in Bishop Larv^s 
'Considerations on the Theory of Religion^ from p. 82, to p. 98. 3d edit. 

Vide Siftler's Analogy, part ii. ch. 3. p. 267. 4th edit, 1750. 

* Lev. XXV. 35, 3^. Ex. xxiii. 9. Lev. xix. 34. Deut. xxiii. .7. E.\. xxiii. 4^ 
Dent. XV. 7i 8 Lev. xix. 9, 10. Deut. xxiv. 19. 



SERMON XXIIT.. 3051 

aiu] comfort of that most useful, though too often most 
wretched, part of the species, slaves and servants, are 
entirely uorthy of a law that came down from Heaven. 
That absolute and unlimited power over the lives of 
slaves indulged to their tyrannical masters by almost all 
Heathen lawgivers, a power most scandalo^isly abused 
to the disgrace of all humanity, was effectualy restrained 
by the Jewish law, which punished the murder of & 
slave with the utmost rigor^. The kindness enjoin- 
ed towards hired servants is most remark aF^le, *' Thou 
*' shalt not oppress a hired servant tkit is poor and 
"needy; whether he be of thy brethren or of thy 
*' strangers that are in the land within thy gates. At 
** his day thou shalt give him his hire ? neither slialt 
** lli€ sun go down upon it } for he is poor and set- 
*' tcth his heart upon itf Thou shalt not rule over 
** thy brother with rigor J."' The injunctions res- 
pecting Hebrew slaves were no less merciful. ** If 
** thy brother, a Hebrew man, or a Hebrew woman, 
" be sold unto thee, and serve thee six years, in the 
*' seventh year thou shalt let him go free from thee ^ 
*' and thou shalt not kt Mm go away empty ; but thott 
'* shalt furnish him liberally out of thy flock, and out 
*' of thy floor, and out of thy wine press : and of that 
'* wherewith the Lord thy God hath blessed tlice, thou 
** shalt give unto him [f.^' It should seem also, as if 
all other bondmen or slaves (even those that were cap- 
tured in war or brought from the neighboring Heathen 
nations) were to be emancipated in the year of tlie 
Jubilee; that is, every fiftieth year: for it is said zinmer' 
sally, " Ye shi«l hallow the fiftieth year, and proclaim 
*^ //7><fry throughout all the land, to all the inhabitants 
" thereof^.'* The utmost care, in short, is taken 
throughout to guard against every species of tyranny 

* Ex. xxi. 20. t Dent. xxiy. 14. 15. \ Lev. xxv. 43» 

if Dqut. XV. 12, l.>. Other instances of this liunnanity in the Jewish law, 
mitv be seen in Deut. xxil. 6. 8. xxiv. 5, 6, 12, 13, to the end. Rosseau him' 
self {Etnile, lib. 5. p. 6.) commends tiie benevrlent spirit of the law men- 
tioned E.^. xxil. 26, 27. See also on this point the ancient part o£ vkct 
Universal History, vol. iii. 8vo, p. 136, note b. and p. 152. 

f Lev. XXX. l"*. 



304 SERMON XXIIL 

and oppression, and to protect the helpless and wtdk 
from the wanton insolence of prosperity and power. 
The tenderness of the divine legislature thought no 
creature below its notice ; and extended itself to the 
minutest articles of social and domestic life, which, 
though unnoticed by less benevolent lawgivers, do, in 
fact, constitute a very great and essential part of human 
happiness and misery. 

With such heavenly institutions as these (which we 
shall in vain look for in any Pagan government) is eve- 
ry page of the Jewish law replete. It is from these we 
are to form our judgment of the Jews, of^their Religion, 
and its Divine Author-* ; and if these had their proper 
effect on the manners of the people, they must have 
produced upon the whole a constant and habitual 
(though, perhaps, from the very nature of their situa- 
tion, a confined) benevolence, much superior, not 
only to that of their rude cotemporaries, but to the 
boasted lenity of much later and more polished na- 
tions. 

It will be readily understood, that every thing which 
has been here said to vindicate the Jewish nation in 
general from the charge of distinguished cruelty^ is ap- 
plicable to King David in particular. But he may also 
lay claim to some peculiar indulgence from the singu-^ 
larity of his own circumstances, which were frequendy 
very unfavorable to humanity. It was his fortune to 
pass through almost every scene of life, and to meet 
with almost every incident in his way, that could be 
injurious to his temper, or give an edge to his resent- 
ments. Extremes of happiness or •^lisery, sudden 
transitions from the one to the other, the persecutions 
of enemies, and the unkindness of friends, are cir- 

* A consideration of the general temper and disposition of law will be 
found of great advantage to civil life ; and will supply us with very useful 
theory. It is reacliing the heart in the first instance, and making ourselves 
masters of the genius of a whole people at once, by reading them in that 
glass which represents them best, the turn of their civil institutions. There 
is scarce a passage in all antiquity more happily imagined, than that where 
Demosthenes tells us, that the laws of a country were considered as the mo- 
rals of a state, and the character of aVhole people taken collectively. Dr. 
Xaylor'*s Elements of Civil Laxv, 2d edit. p. 160. 



SERMON XXIIL 305 

Gtlmstances which seldom fail of hurting the mind, and 
vitiating the most benevolent disposition. All these 
did David experience in quick succession, and in their 
fullest extent. 

He was originally nothing more than a shepherd ; 
and at a time when his youth and inexperience seemed 
to disqualify him for any more important business than 
that of feeding a flock, he broke out at once the cham- 
pion and preserver of his country. Transplanted on a 
sudden from a cottage to a court, he experienced al- 
ternately the smiles and the frowns of a capricious mo- 
narch ; was sometimes flattered with tlie hope of being 
united to him by the closest bonds of affinity, and 
sometimes in danger of being struck by him with a 
javelin to the wall. Driven at length from his pre- 
sence, and torn from the arms of those he loved, " his 
*' soul was hunted from city to city ;" and after suf- 
fering the last distresses of human nature, he was not 
only restored to the honors he had lost, but seated on 
the throne of Israel. And here, though surrounded with 
all the pleasures and magnificence of an Eastern mo- 
narch, yet was he at the same time not only harassed 
with the common uneasinesses of life, and the cares in- 
separable from royalty, but experienced a succession of 
the bitterest sufferings and the lieaviest domestic cala- 
mities ; was once more driven from Jerusalem, deserted 
by his friends, cursed by his enemies, and persecuted 
by his darling son ; whose death did indeed put a peri- 
od to his public calamities, but plunged him in the 
deepest affliction, and was very near bringing down 
his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. 

Whin to these private considerations we add those 
itiore general ones above-mentioned, we can hardly be 
surprized at any excesses of severity that King David 
occasionally gave way to. We shall rather be surpri- 
zed to find, in so tumultuous and military a kind of 
life, many striking instances of humanity, many amia- 
ble tendernesses, many uncommon and heroical exer- 
tions of generosity, which plainly indicated a temper 
constitutionally good and rteht, but laboring under 



306 SERMON XXIIL 

the weight of numberless disadvantages, which Some- 
times dragged it from its true bias, and forced it to take 
a turn directly opposite to its natural bent. His cir- 
cumstances exposed him to a variety of injuries and in- 
sults ; the liveliness of his sensations made him feel 
them, the impetuosity of his passions made him resent 
them, too strongly. And yet, though every thing 
thus concurred to stimulate his revenge, though the 
guilt of indulging it was not then so apparent and so 
acknowledged as it now is, yet did he, on one memo- 
rable occasion, resist the strongest impulses of this 
importunate and ungovernable passion, though tempted 
xo gratify it by the most inviting opportunity on his in- 
veterate enemy, whose past conduct would almost have 
justified any extremity ; and whose removal would not 
only have put an immediate end to his distresses, but, 
in all appearance, opened his way to the attainment of 
his utmost wishes^ and raised him at once from an ex- 
ile to a king*. 

It is but justice also to add, that this prince had a sen^ 
sibility of soul, which, though it gave too keen an 
edge both to his relish of pleasure and his resentment 
of injury, yet gave at the same time an uncommon fer^ 
vor to his repentance, a peculiar vigor and vivacity tp 
all liis virtues ; rendered him most feelingly alive to ther 
noblest and the tenderest sentiments ; and inspired him 
w ith every liberal and social affection that can warm 
the human breast. "O Absalom, my son, my son,'' 
are words that will go to every parent's heart that has 
experienced the same misfortune, and speak to it with 
a force and eloquence that has never yet been equalled. 
He had, moreover, as his inimitable writings abundant- 
ly testify, a most ardent spirit of devotion, and a bound- 
less zeal for the honor of God and the interests of his 
Religion ; and the general tenor of his conduct, when 
left to its own natural course, very clearly evinced, that 
he was, upon the whole, a conscious observer and a 
strenuous asserter of the Divine laws, a most disinter. 

* 1 Sam. xxiv. Vide Peters on Job, p. 352. 



SERMON XXIII. 307 

csted and active patriot, the tenderest of parents, and 
the most affectionate of friends. 

At the same time, however, that we do justice to the 
virtues of King David, we must acknowledge and la- 
ment his faults, which were undoubtedly great, and in 
one flagrant instance more especially, justly subject him 
tx) the severest reproach. But while we censure him 
on this account, as he deserves, it will be our wisdom 
to look well also to ourselves. To the Infidel it is mat- 
ter of unspeakable triumph, that the man after God's 
own heart should have been betrayed into such dread- 
ful crimes. But to the Christian it must be a subject 
of most serious concern and alarm, to observe so stri- 
king aproof of the frailty and weakness of human nature, 
even when strengthened by mature years, and confirm- 
ed by early habits of virtue and religion. It holds out 
to him a most awful lesson, how indispensably neces- 
sary it is, even for men of the best dispositions and 
most exalted piety, to keep their hearts with all dili- 
gence ; to watch and to guard those passions, which 
they feel most predominant in their souls, with unre- 
mitting vigilance, to the latest period of their lives ; 
and to apply most fervently and frequently for that help 
from above, which is promised in the Gospel to every 
sincere believer^ and without which our utmost efforts 
and our firmest resolutions will, in some unguarded and 
unsuspected moment, give way to the impetuosity of 
passion, and we shall be unexpectedly plunged into an 
abyss of guilt and misery. 

But, above all things, let us beware o^ perverting the 
example of David to our own ruin, and of considering 
his deviations from duty, not as they truly are, a warn- 
ing to us against danger, but as an encouragement to 
us to tread in the same unhallowed paths of vice. Let 
us not flatter ourselves, that because he, so devout, so 
religious, so distinguished by the favor of Heaven, was 
once most fatally seduced into sin, that we may there- 
fore commit the same or similar crimes with impunity. 
On the contrary, if these crimes appear so odious and 
detestable, even in a Jewish monarch, who had to 



308 SERMON XXIII. 

plead in his excuse (though all excuse was vain) the 
temptations of a court, the manners of the times, the 
peculiarity of his own circumstances, and the liberties 
too often taken by men in his situation ; they must as- 
sume a much more frightful aspect in a private Chris- 
tian, who has none of those mitigating pleas to oifer, 
who lives in much more enlightened and civilized times, 
has much stricter rules of moral conduct presented to 
him in the Gospel, is called to a much higher degree of 
purity and holiness, has far more powerful aid from 
Heaven to support him in his duty, more terrible pun- 
ishments to work upon his fears, and more glorious 
rewards to animate his hopes. 

Let it be remembered too, that the offences of Da- 
vid were by no means passed over with impunity ; that 
he was severely punished for them by the remorse of 
his own conscience, by the deep affliction into which 
they plunged him, by the wretched consequences they 
drew after them, and by the heavy and positive penalties 
denounced and inflicted upon him by God himself. 

Hear how the repenting monarch bemoans himself 
in the anguish of his soul, and then say, whether his 
situation was an enviable one ; whether you w^ould 
chuse to imitate his misconduct, and take the conse- 
quences. 

" Have mercy upon me, O God, after thy great 
*' goodness, according to tlie multitude of thy mer^ 
*' cies do away mine offences. Wash me thorough^ 
'' ly from my wickedness, and cleanse me from my 
*' sin ; for I acknowledge my fault, and my sin is ever 
" before me. Make me a clean heart, O God, and 
" renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away 
*' from thy presence, and take not thy Holy Spirit 
*' from me. Thy rebuke hath broken my heart, I am 
'' full of heaviness ; I looked for some to have pity on 
" me, but there was no man, neither found I any to 
" comfort me. My God, my God, look upon me : 
*' why hast thou forsaken me, and art so far from my 
*' health and the words of my complaint. I cry in the 
*' day. time, and thou hearest not ; and in the night- 



SERMON XXlir. 309 

' season also I take no rest. Turn thee unto me, and 

* have mercy upon me, for I am desolate and in mise- 
' ry. The sorrows of my heart are enlarged, O brhig 
' thou me out of my troubles. Look upon my adver- 
' sity and misery, and forgive me all my sin. Thine 
' arrows stick fast in me, and thy hand presseth me 
' sore : for my wickednesses are gone over my head, 

* and are like a sore burthen, too heavy for me to 
' bear. I am brought into so great trouble and mise- 
' ry, that I go mourning all the day long. My heart 

* panteth, my strength faileth, and the sight of mine 
' eyes is gone from me*.'* 

It is hardly in the power of language to express 
greater agony of mind than this ; and no one, surely, 
that reads these passages can wish to undergo the mi- 
sery there described. It is impossible for him, if he is 
of a sound mind, to make so wretched a bargain for 
himself, as to plunge voluntarily into the crimes of the 
royal penitent, that he may afterwards taste the bitter 
fruits of his contrition and remorse ; or, (what is still 
worse, and what no sinner can be secure against) that 
he may die without repenting at all, and rush into the 
unceasing torments of '' a worm that never dies, and 
^' a fire that is never quenched." 

* Ps. li. Ixix. XXV. xxxviii. &c. kc. 



m 



SERMON XXIV. 



James i. 27. 

Pure religion, and ujidejiled before God anti the Father, is this, t^ 
•visit the Jatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep 
himself unsfiotted from the world. 

IT shpuld seem as if Religion was here made to con- 
sist only of two parts; Charity or Benevo- 
lence respecting others, and Purjty or Self-Go- 
vern ment respecting ourselves. The first of these, 
Benevolence, is characterized to us by singling out 
one of the strongest of our social affections, compas- 
sion towards the distressed, which, in the beautiful lan- 
guage of Scripture, is called visiting, that is, relieving 
*' the fatherless and widows in their . affliction ;" a 
mode of expression very common to the sacred wri- 
ters ; especially when they are describing the virtue 
of Charity, which is almost constantly represented by 
one or other of its most striking features. 

The other part of Religion, here specified Self- Gov- 
ernment, is very distinctly marked out by the phrase 
of "keeping himself unspotted from the world ;" 
which plainly means a total abstinence from the immo- 
ral practices and unlawful pleasures of the world ; a 
strict command over our irregular appetites and pas- 
sions ; an abhorrence of every thing that tends to de- 
base our nature, and contaminate our souls. 

But it must immediately occur to every one, that, 
besides the two branches of Religion here enumera- 
ted, there is a third, of which St. James takes no notice. 



SERMON XXIV. 311 

And it may appear, at first sight, a little extraordinary, 
that an Apostle of Christ, ^vhen he seems to be giving 
a formal definition of his Master's Religion, should 
omit what has ever been esteemed a most essential part 
of it, Piety^oxtheloDeofGod, But, although this du- 
ty is not expressly mentioned, yet it is evidently im- 
plied, in the text, which recommends such Religion 
only as terminates ultimately in God, such as is pure 
and undefiled '' before God and the Father.'^ And 
the reason why St. James did not more particularly 
insist on this point was, because he had no occasion 
to press it on the persons to whom he was writing. 
That acts of piety were necessary, they readily owned ; 
but they were too apt, it seems, to think, that scarce 
any thing else was necessary ; and that, provided they 
were punctual and exact in their devotional exercises^ 
they might be allowed to relax a little in the govern- 
ment of their passions, and the duties owing to their 
neighbor. St. James, therefore, pointing the whole force 
of his admonition against this dangerous error, and pas- 
sing over those religious observances, on which they 
were already disposed to pique themselves too much, 
reminds them in the text, that although God was in- 
deed to be w^orshipped, yet it w^as to be not only with 
their lips, but in their lives ; that Religion, that even 
Devotion itself, did not consist merely in calling up- 
on God's name, but in obeying his laws ; in acts of 
kindness to their fellow^- creatures, and an unspotted 
sanctity of manners. 

Let no one, therefore, infer, what some have been 
too willing to infer, from the passage before us, that an 
inoffensive, beneficent, and tolerably good moral life, 
is the mjhole of Religion ; and that the love of God con- 
stitutes no part of our duty. It is, on the contrary, 
our principal and most important duty, or, as the Scrip- 
tures express it, the first and great commandment. 
And as, without Piety, there can be no Religion, so 
without belief in the Son of God, there can be evi- 
dently no Christianity. Unless our virtue is built on 
this foundation, unless it be grounded on true evange- 



312 SERMON XXI V. 

lical principks^ it may be very good Pagan morality^ 
btst it is not Christian godliness. And whatever other 
rewards it may be entitled to, it can have no claim to 
tb-at eternal one, which is not a matter of right, strictly 
due lo ouF services^ but the free gift of God to those 
o«i«Iy that embrace the offers of salvation made to them 
m the Gospel, on the conditions of a right faith, as 
well as of a right conduct. Yet it has became of late 
but toa common, not only to treat the peculiar doc- 
trines of Christianity with contempt, and to set up 
practical morality as the sum and substance of all reli- 
gion ; but what is still more extraordinary, men have 
frequently thought, or pretended to think, that even 
morality itself w^as not necessary in all its extent ; and 
that of the two duties mentioned in the text, CharitV 
and Self- Go v ernment, it was fully sufficient to cul- 
tivate that which best suited their own constitutions or 
inclinations. Accordingly, they liave very seldom paid 
a due regard to both these at the same time ; but slight- 
ing each of them in their turn, have persuaded them- 
selves, that the observance of the one would atone for 
the neglect or violation of the other* 

These assertions might very easily be proved by 
feets ; and it would be no unpleasing, nor perhaps un- 
profitable speculation, to trace the various revolutions 
that have happened in the opinion and the practice of 
mankind with regard to these two Christian virtues. But 
it is sufficient for my present purpose to observe, that 
as the distinguishing character of our forefathers in the 
last age was preciseness and severity of mani>ers ; we, 
tlieir descendants, on the contrary, have taken up Be- 
nevolence for our favorite virtue : and that the same 
vigor of mind, and national vehemence of temper, 
which carried them such remarkable lengths in the 
rugged paths of moral discipline, has with us taken a 
different direction, and a gayer look ; is stirring up all 
the humane and tender affections within our souls, and 
urging us onto the noblest exertions of generosity and 
beneficence. 



SJERMON XXIV. 315 

For to our praise it must be owned, that it will not 
be easy to find any age or nation in which both private 
and public benevolence was ever carried to so high a 
pitch, or distributed in so many diiFerent channels, as 
it is amongst ourselves at this day. Numerous as the 
evils are to which man is naturally subject, and indus- 
trious as he is in creating others by his own follies and 
indiscretions, modern charity is still equal and present 
to them all, and accommodates itself to the many vari- 
ous shapes in which human misery appears. It feeds 
the hungry, clothes the naked, visits the sick, protects 
the widow, relieves the stranger, educates the orphan, 
instructs the ignorant, reclaims the sinner, receives the 
penitent. So far, then, you have done well ; you have 
discharged, perhaps, one branch of your duty, but how 
have you performed the others ? What regard, more 
especially, have you paid to that virtue which is linked 
with charity in the very words of the text ? Whilst you 
' ' visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction , do you 
** keep yourselves unspotted from the world ?" Are you 
plain and simple in your diet and your attire ? Are you 
sober, chaste, and modest ? Are you temperate in your 
pleasures, and discreet in your amusements ? Do you 
mingle solitude and reflection with business and with 
society ? Do you bridle your tongues, and moderate 
your desires ? Do you keep your bodies under and 
bring them into subjection ? Do you crucify the flesh 
with all its affections and lusts ? Do you carefully avoid 
every thing that may inflame and stimulate your pas- 
sions ? Are you, in short, as rigorous to yourselves as 
you are benevolent to others ? If to these questions 
your copsciences can answer, with truth, in the affirma- 
tive ; and if to all this you have added the sinoerest 
sentiments of love and gratitude to your Maker, your 
Redeemer, your Sanctifier, then, indeed, you have 
been good and faithful servants to your heavenly Mas- ' 
ter ; then may you safely call yourselves disciples of 
Christ ; and with humble reliance on his merits, not 
your own, may expect to enter into the joy of your 
Lord. 

Q q 



4U SERMON XXIV. 

But if, on th^ qontrary, there are but; too evident 
marks among certain classes of men of an inextinguish- 
able thirst for pleasure and amusement, and those too 
not always of the most innocent and reputable nature ; 
if luxury not only prevails as a fashion, but is studied 
as a science ; if charity is in some persons nothing 
tt^ore than a cloak for voluptuousness ; if benevolence 
i^ industriously and officiously, I had almost said in- 
vidiously, cried up, and magnified as the only duty of 
a man, nay, even of a Christian ; whilst purity is ridi- 
cijled and set at nought, as a sour, unsocial, unhumani*- 
zed virtue ; is called austerity, preciseness, puritanismy 
or any thing but vjhdX, it really is ; if the natural conse- 
quences of this licentious doctrine are but too visible 
in that rapid growth of dissoluteness amongst us, which 
seems to threaten the extinction of every moral and re- 
ligious principle ; if, in fine, the grossest violations of 
decency, nay, even of connubial fidelity, are often 
treated with levity and gaiety, as subjects rather of 
pleasantry than of reproach ; and are not only commit- 
ted without scruple but avowed, and sometimes defen- 
ded too, without a blush ; if this be a faithful portrait 
of our manners, what infinite cause have we, amidst 
all our boasted charities, to tremble at the danger of our 
situation t It is incredible, it is impossible, that the 
righteous Governor of the Universe can be an uncon* 
eerned spectator of such wickedness as this \ 

But is our Benevolence then you will say, of no 
avail ? Will not that shelter us from punishment ? For 
charity, w^e are told, ''shall cover the multitude of sins*: "* 
and, accordingly, we take effectual care that it shall 
have a multitude to cover. But whose sins does St. 
Peter^say that charity shall cover ? Our own, or those 
of others ? He may only mean, that a charitable man 
will not wantonly dhulge^ but will coijer^ will throw a 
veil over, the failings of his neighbor. But supposing, 
what is most probable, that our own sins are meant, 
what sort of sins do you think that charity shall cover I 
Not, surely, those gross^ presumptuous habitual ones,, 

*lP©tiv. 8, 



SERMON XXrV. 51$ 

which we would gladly shelter under it ; but those ca- 
sual slips and inadvertencies, those almost unavoidable 
errors, weaknesses, and imperfections, to which the 
very best of men are subject, and which are almost 
the only sins that a truly charitable man can have to 
cover. For what is this charity, at last, of which such 
great things are said in Scripture ? Read over that well- 
known, and most eloquent description of it by St. 
Paul, and you will find it to be something very differ- 
ent from that false image of it which the philosophy of 
this world has set up to worship. From thence, from 
the whole tenor of Scripture you will find it to be not 
merely an easay, undistinguishing good nature, or a 
thoughdess, profuse, pernicious liberality ; biit an ia- 
ward principle of universal kind affection, founded in 
nature, improved by reason, and perfected by grace,; 
-restraining us, in the first place, from doing harm i 
then prompting us, on every occasion, and towards 
every person, to do all the good we possibly can. This 
is the only charity that the Gospel is acquainted with ; 
the only one, that in conjunction with repentance, and 
faith in our Redeemer, can in the least contribute to 
obtain pardon for our failings, and render us meet to 
be partakers of the kingdom of Heaven. 

In whatever sense, then, we understand the expres- 
sion of cbarhy covering our sins, the sensualist can never 
avail himself of that protection, ;because he acts in direct 
contradiction to the very first principles of true Chris- 
tian charity. *^ Love worketh no ill to his neighbor,*' 
«ays St. Paul ; therefore love is the fulfilling of the 
law ; and therefore he who works such ill to his neigh- 
bor, as the voluptuary does every day, (by destroying 
the innocence, the peace, the comfort, the happiness, 
temporal and eternal, of those very persons for whom 
lie professes the tendcrest regard,) must be an utter 
stranger to redl philanthrophy. Though he may feed 
tl>e hungry and clothe the naked, and visit the fatherless 
.^nd vvidoM's in their affliction ; yet, if to gratify his 
own passions, he plunges those who have never offend- 
i.^d.him in misery and disgrace, he is a hurtful member 



316 SERMON XXIV. 

of society. Nay, perhaps his very liberality and good- 
liature serve only to render him the more hurtful. They 
throw a lustre over the criminal part of his character, 
^nd render him an object of admiration to the crowd of 
servile imitators, who not having the sense to separate 
his vices from his accomplishments, from their con- 
duct upon his example in the gross, and hope to be- 
come equally agreeable by being equally wicked. And, 
as if it was not enough to have these patterns before 
our eyes in real life, they are once more served up to 
us in the productions of some modern writers, who, to 
the fond ambition of what they call copying after na- 
ture, and of gaining a name, are content to. sacrifice 
the interests of virtue, and to lend a willing hand to- 
vrards finishing the corruption of our manners. Hence 
it is, that in several of our most favorite works of fan- 
cy and amusement, the principal figure of the piece 
is some professed libertine, who, on the strength of a 
pleasing figure, a captivating address, and a certain 
amiable generosity of disposition, has the privilege of 
committing whatever irregularities he thinks fit, and of 
excusing them in the easiest manner imaginable, as the 
unavoidable effects of constitution, and the litde foibles 
of a heart intrinsically good. Thus, whilst he delights 
pur imagination, and wins our affections, he never fails, 
at the same time, to corrupt our principles. And 
young people, more especially, instead of being inspir- 
ed with a just detestation of vice, are furnished with 
apologies for it which they never forget, ^nd are even 
taught to consider it as a necessary part of an accom- 
plished character. 

It becomes, then, every sincere Christian to oppose 
to the utmost this prevailing licentiousness, which in- 
sinuates itself into the manners and minds of men, un- 
der the protection of some engaging qualities, with 
which it sometimes />, but much oftener affects to be, 
imited. And the only way of putting a stop to this 
mischief, and of restoring that union which the text 
enforces, and which ought always to subsist between 
the two great branches of practical morality, is to show 



SERMON XXIV. 5 IT 

by our example (the most intelligible and convincing 
of all proofs) that Benevolence is then most lovely, 
when joined with its true ally, its proper companion, 
Self-Government ; that, in order to form a pleas- 
ing character, it is by no means necessary to throw into 
it any impure alloy ; but that on the contrary, a truly 
pious and strictly moral Christian, will not only be the 
most virtuous, but the most amiable of men. 

Unhappily, indeed, a contrary opinion has too long 
and too generally prevailed amongst us ; and licentious 
wits have taught great numbers to believe that purity 
of manners is a vulgar and a contemtpible virtue, and 
that all pretence to it is in general nothing more than 
hypocrisy and grimace. But let us not be frightened 
by a few hard words and a little witless buffoonery, from 
pursuing steadily the invariable rule of moral rectitude. 
As sure as God himself is all purity and perfection, 
there is such a thing as real purity of heart and life ; 
and it is'one of the most exalted virtues that can dig- 
nify human nature. It gives that strength and vigour 
and masculine firmness to the mind, which is the foun- 
dation of every thing great and excellent. It has pro- 
duced some of the noblest struggles, and most heroi- 
cal exertions, of soul, that the world ever saw, and is, 
perhaps, a more convincing, more unequivocal proof 
of our sincerity in religion, than even benevolence it- 
self. When it is considered how many inducements, 
how many temptations^ there are to acts of humanity, 
to which nature prompts, to which fashion draws, to 
which vanity, interest, popularity, ambition, some- 
times lead us, one cannot always be sure that they 
proceed from a truly Christian principle. But he who 
combats his darling passions, and gives up the fondest 
wishes of his soul ; who keeps a constant guard upon 
all his thoughts, words, and actions ; intrepidly with- 
stands the most alluring temptations, and taken up his 
Cross to follow Christ ; this man cannot well be in- 
fluenced by any thing but a strong sense of duty, and 
an undissembled conviction that he is bound to obey 
even the severest pre'cepts of the Gospel. His good 



51S SERMON XXIV. 

actions are neither seen nor applauded of men. They 
are performed in secrecy and in silence without osten- 
tation, without regard, save only the approbation of 
that all-seeing God, who is witness to the bitter con- 
flicts of his soul, and will one day make him ample 
amends in the sight of angels and of men. 

Let it not, however, be supposed that any thing here 
said is meant to depreciate that most heavenly virtue, 
charity, or to rob those that exercise it of that fair fame, 
that heartfelt satisfaction, and those glorious rewards 
hereafter, which through the merits of their Redeemer 
Cannot fail to recompense their generous labors. May 
every branch and species of benevolence for ever flou- 
rish and abound. May its divine and blessed influence 
spread continually wider and wider, till it takes in eveiy 
creature under heaven, and leaves not one misery im- 
alleviated, one grievance unredressed. But all excel- 
lent as it is, let not this, let not any single virtue, en- 
gross our whole attention. I^et us not confine our- 
selves to the easy, the delightful, the reputable works 'of 
beneficence, and neglect the other great branch of moral 
^duty, SjELF-DENiAX ; no less necessary and impor- 
tant, but much more difficult, and which, therefore^ 
stands in need of every possible argument in its favor 
to recommend and support it, Let us no longer make 
inviduous and unjust distinctions between these two 
kindred virtues. In nature, in reason, in the sight of 
God, in the Gospel of Christ, self government is of 
equal value with social duties. They equally tend to 
the perfection of our own minds and the comfort of our 
fellow-creatures. The same rewards are in Scripture 
promised to both ; the same penalties are denounced 
against the violation of both ; and there is so strict and 
intimate a union between them, that the cultivation or 
neglect of the one, must necessarily lead, and has, in 
fact, always ultimately led, to the improvement or de- 
privation of the other. What then God and nature, as 
well as Chitst and his apostles, have joined together, 
let no man dare to put asunder. Let not any one 
Matter himself with the hope of obtaining the .re\^'ards^ 



SERMON XXIV. 319 

or even escaping the punishments of the Gospel, by 
performing only o?ie branch of his duty. Let him 
not imagine, that the most rigorous severity of man- 
ners can excuse him from the exercise of undissembled 
love to God and to mankind ; nor, on the other hand, 
let him sui:)pose, that under the shelter either of devo- 
tion or of benevolence, he may securely indulge his 
favorite passions ; may compound, as it were, with 
God for his sensuality by acts of generosity, and pur- 
chase by his wealth a general license to sin. Let him 
not, in short, content himself with being only half a 
Christian. Let him visit, as often as he pleases, the 
fatherless and the widows in their affliction. Let his 
piety be fervent, and his faith sincere. But let him, at 
the same time, take care, as he values his salvation, 
that he keep himself unspotted from the world. 



SERMON XXV^. 



^ Kings iv. 1- 

Thy servant my husband is dead, and thou knoWest that thy servant 
did fear the Lord ; and the creditor is come to take unto him 
my two sons to be bond-men* 

THE unhappy sufferer, who makes this most mo- 
ving complaint, was the widow of one of the sons 
of the prophets, whose distress Elisha immediately re- 
lieved by the miraculous increase of her pot of oil. It 
will not be easy to find in any writer, sacred or profane^ 
a more piteous story, or a case more applicable to the 
occasion of the present meeting* I cannot therefore 
do better than leave it upon your minds in that concise 
and affecting simplicity in which it is here related, whilst 
I proceeded to recommend the distressed Widows and 
Children of the English Clergy to your benevolent pro- 
tection* 

The nature and designof the several charitable in- 
stitutions, which have now brought us together, are, I 
presume, so well understood in this place^ that there can 
be no need to take up any of your time in explaining 
themf. The generous support they have hitherto met 

* Preached at the anniversary meeting of the Sons of the Clergy, May 
9, 1776. 

t But it may not perhaps be generally known that there are three distinct 
societies formed fqr the benefit of the indigent widows and children of the 
Clergy, and all closely connected with each other 

i The fifst and principal is The Corporation for the I^ciief of the poor Wi- 
dows and Children of Clergymen^ established by charter in the reign of King 
Charles the Secon4. The funds of this charity are employed chiefly in 
giving pensions to the widows of the clergy. 



SERMON XXV. 321 

Nvith demands our most grateful acknowledgments ; 
and in order to keep this friendly dispositions towards 
us alive and warm in your breasts, I shall attempt to 
show that the clergy of the Church of England have, 
both on account of their public services y and (with 
respect to too large a part) their private necessities^ a 
peculiar claim to your kind attention and assistance. 

If we go back to the early ages of Christianity our 
own Ecclesiastics had their share, with others of the 
sacred order, in first introducing the light of the Gos- 
pel into this country, and in sacrificing to its advance- 
ment their ease, their health, their fortunes, their lives. 
When in after-times, by a variety of concurrent causes, 
this kingdom was, in common with all its neighbors, 
overwhelmed with the most deplorable darkness and ig- 
norance ; and when that stupendous fabric of popish 
tyranny and superstition was, like another Babel, raised 
up with incredible art and diligence, to the very skies ; 
yet still the Christian clergy in general, and ours among 
the rest, were of no small benefit to the community. 
It is acknowledged by an historian, who has never be- 
trayed any partiality to our order, that in the period we 
are speaking of, " the profession and (let me add) the 
" disposition of the churchmen, averse to arms and vio- 
'* lenee, tempered the general turn to military enter- 
'' prises, and maintained even amidst the shock of 
*' arms, those secret links without which it isimpossi- 

The second, which rose not long after, is, I'he Society of the Fe^st of the 
Sons of the Clergy, consisting of the company annually assembled under 
that name at St. Paul's Church, and Merchant-Taylors Hall. The money 
collected at those two places is wholly expended in apprenticing out the chil- 
dren of necessitous clergymen. The expenses of the music and the feast 
are generously defrayed by the stewards of that society. 

The third, is The Society of Stewards and Subscribers for nnatntainiyig and 
educating the poor Orphans of the Clergy till of age to be put Apprentices. 

This society was formed in the year 1749, It is composed of those who 
have been stewards of the former society, and any others who chuse to be- 
come members of it. It is supported by annual subscriptions of one guinea 
each, and naaintains two schools, one for boys, and the other for girls, in 
which the orphans of the clergy are educg.ted till they are of sufficient age 
to go out to apprenticeships. 

It might be of use if a short and clear account of these societies was print- 
ed in a small tract, describing their nature and design, together with the 
proper time and method of applying to them for relief, and the persons to 
whom such applications should be made. 

Rr 



S22 SERMON XXV. 

" ble for human society to subsist*." Nay, e^^en ma- 
By privileges of the order that were justly looked up- 
on with a jealous eye, yet proved, in those turbulent 
ages, a check to the despotism of our monarchs, and at 
the same time kept the community from falling to pieces 
by the factions and quarrels of the nobles. And it ought 
never to be forgotten, that for what we- call our Mag- 
na Charta, that main foundation (as it is generally 
held to be) of our free constitution, we are principally 
indebted to the eloquence,, the spirit, and the activity 
of an English primatef, assisted and supported by al- 
most the whole body of his clergy.; It is true, indeed, 
in other respects the conduct of our Ecclesiastics was 
not always so irreproachable as might have been wish- 
ed ; for they must needs partake in some degree of the 
corruption and barbarity which then generally prevailed. 
Yet great numbers of them, did nottvithstanding, pre- 
serve themselves pure and undeliled from the vices of 
the age, and were exemplary in their manners, tempe- 
rate, charitable, meek and heavenly-minded. Their 
cloysters were a retreat not merely, as is commonly 
supposed, for the idle and dissolute, but for the studi- 
ous, the afflicted, the penitent and the devout. They 
afforded support to all the neighboring poor, and in 
those days of lawless violence, were extremely useful 
as places of refuge and security to the defenceless and 
the weak. In them too were deposited many of those 
precious remains of antiquity which we now peruse 
with so much delight, and which, had it not been for 
the protection they found in religious houses,, would, 
in all probability, have perished by the hands of those 
barbarians that spread ruin and desolation over Europe. 

* Hume's Hist, of England, Hen. III. vol. ii. p. 10. 1st edit. 4to. 1762. 

f Stephen Langton, archbishop of Canterbury ; " a man whose memo- 
« ry," savs the historian above mentioned, " ought always to be respected' 
♦' by the English.'* Vol. 1. p. 382. 

In the following reign the abbots and prelates wei*e very instrumental in' 
obtaining the same security from Hen. III. and they endeavored to guard: 
against all future violations of it by a most tremiendous ceremony. They 
stood round the Great Charter, v/hilst it was read in parliament, with 
burning tapers in their hands, and denounced the sentence of excommunica- 
non against every one that^shoiild thenceforth dare to infringe that funda-? 
mental law. lb. Vcl. II. p. 25, 26. 



SERMON XXV. 325 

In these peaceful sanctuaries, the leisure and tranquilli- 
ty which the monks enjoj^d, enabled them not only to 
record (however uncouthly) the transactions of their 
own times, but to transcribe the compositions of for- 
mer and more valuable writers. Nor was this the only 
object of their attention. They found time to culti- 
vate even some of the finer arts. Those sublime pow- 
ers of harmony, which have been this very day so no- 
bly and laudably exerted in the cause of the fatherless 
and the widow, owe their birth in this country to mo- 
nastic diligence and ingenuity. Both the theory and 
the practice of music were first studied and taught 
here, and in other parts of Europe, by the regular 
clergy* ; and what is now the delight and amusement 
of all ranks of people, was originally the offspring of 
Religion, and appropriated, solely to the pmpose of 
animating devotion, and giving dignity and solemnity 
to the service of the church. The monks drew up a 
large number of treatises on this subject, which not- 
withstanding the barbarism of the times, were Vv^ritten 
with great perspicuity, method, and precision ; and 
they had seminaries of young people under their care, 
whom they instructed in the rudiments of this science. 
Libraries were also formed in all the monasteries, and 
schools founded in them and near most of the cathe- 
drals, for teaching the literature of the timesf. And 
thus was learning kept alive at least, though in a very 
languid state, till the art of printing was found out. 
Even that most useful art itself was, according to the 
opinion of some learned men, which seems to be well 
founded, first brought into our island by the care and 
generosity of an English primatej. In the restoration 
of letters, which quickly followed, the Ecclesiastics 

* See Dr. Burney's Hist, of Music, vol. ii. p. 68. And Sir John Hawk- 
in's Preliminary Disc. p. 48 to 53 : and vol. v. p. 112, 113. 

f Vide Moshenaii Hist. Eccles. sec. vi. par. ii. c. 1, p. 237, 
+ Archbishop Bourchier; who persuaded Henry VI. to furnish one Mr. 
Robert Tumour with a thousand marks (towards which the archbishop con- 
tributed three hundred), and to send him privately to Harlem, in company 
with Caxton, in order to fetch from thence the new-invented art of print- 
ing ; which he did accordingly, by bringing over to England Frederick Cor- 
*ellis, one of the compositors at Harlem. See Biograph. Briraun. art. 



324 SERMON XXV. 

took the lead, and contributed more than any Dtlier set 
of men to introduce a true taste for every branch of 
polite and useful learning into this country. From that 
period to the present, they have always made a distin- 
guished figure in the whole circle of sciences and arts ; 
their writings have ever ranked amongst the purest of 
their times ; and let the occasion excuse me if I add, 
(the proofs of what I say are before the world) that 
our profession is at this very day adorned by men, who, 
in genius, learning, judgment, taste, and elegance of 
composition, have few if any superiors. 

Whoever, then, is a friend to literature and the iine 
arts, must be a friend to the English clergy, and will 
cheerfully contribute to the relief of that order which 
has so largely contributed to his information and amuse- 
ment. But they have still more substantial services 
than these to plead. To them you stand principally 
indebted, not only for the restoration of letters, but the 
revival of true Religion. For although the first oppo- 
sition made here to the usurpations of the Church of 
Rome took its rise from the passions of an impetuous 
prince, yet the work of reformation itself was undoubt- 
edly begun, carried on, and completed by the hands of 
the English clergy. In this glorious cause they wrote 
with irresistible strength of argument, and buffered 
with invincible fortitude of mind. To their labors, 
their piety and learning, their judgment and modera- 
tion, you owe that pure mode of worship, and that ex- 
cellent form of pubhc prayer you now enjoy ; the con- 
stant use of which in the Church of England, has un- 
doubtedly, in more respects than one, been of infinite 
service to the people of this kingdom. And when, at 
a subsequent period, our religious as well as civil liber- 
ties were in the most imminent danger of being destroy- 
ed by the intemperate zeal of a bigotted and despotic 
monarch, then again did the clergy courageously step 
forth in defence of both. From them originated one 

Bourchier. Dr. Middleton, indeed, and others, have endeavored to disprove 
the truth of this story ; but their most nr^iterial objections to it have been 
■well answered by Mr. Meerman, in his very curious and {earBred work, eh.- 
tinledj Origines Typographicje, vol. ii. 



SERMON XXV. 325 

©f the very first parliamentary checks to the violences of 
James 11.^ By their excellent discourses and writing* 
against popery, the people were first roused to a just 
abhorrence of that dangerous superstitionf. By their 
decent, yet manly firmness, in supporting their invaded 
rights, the rest of the nation was inspired with a similar 
resolution to resist the precipitate and unconstitutional 
measures of an infatuated court; and throughout the 
whole of that memorable and glorious transaction, 
their behavior was at once so prudent and intrepid, so 
suitable to their profession, and so friendly to the righte- 
ous cause of genuine liberty and pure religion, that 
they received one of the highest and most flattering re- 
wards with which a British subject can be honored, 
the unanimous thanks of the Commons of Great Bri- 
tain in Parliament assembled^ . 

These, perhaps it will be said, though important, 
are past services, and are calculated to prove, not what 
we ourselves, but what our predecessors have done for 
the public. Yet surely they are reasons for esteeming 
the order in general, for bearing testimony to the me- 
rits of those who have formerly adorned it, and for ex- 
ercising every act of kindness and humanity towards 

* Henry Compton, bishop of London, in the name of his brethren, made. 
a motion in the House of Lords to take into consideration King James' fa- 
mous speech in the second session of parliament, in which he signified hi» 
intention o£ disfitnsing with the Test-acts. The bishop's motion was carried. 
Hume's Hist. vol. vi. p. 390. — 1 have referred to this historian all along, for 
no other reason, than because his testimony, when given in Javor of the 
clergy (whom he sincerely hated) is unexceptionable. 

t To the same eminent persons we owe the subversion of the whole 
system of Atheistic Philosophy, from its very foundations. See the Bishop 
of Worcester's Sermons. S. i. p. 23. 

^ Journals of the House of Commons, Feb. 1, 1688. 

Among other instances of cool yet resolute opposition to the despotism 
of James by the prelates and clergy of the Church of England at this mo- 
mentous period, the reader will recollect with peculiar veneration and grati- 
tude. Bishop Compton's refusal to comply with the king's illegal order to 
suspend Dr. Sharp, for preaching against poper\' ; the resistance made by 
Dr. Hough, and the Fellows of Magdalen College in Oxford, to the king's 
arbitrary mandate in favor of a popish president ; and the truly noble and 
patriotic conduct of the seven Bishops who were sent to the Tower, and 
brought to a public trial for their petition to the throne against the second 
Declaration of Indulgence founded 07i the Dispaisirig Fcvcer. These acts cf 
magnanimity on the part of the English clergy, indisputably prepared and 
led the way to the great and grcrious events ■which soon after fcllcwed. 



326 SERMON XXV. 

the persons who succeed them in their ministry. And 
even these, we hope, have something to plead in their 
behalf. They have not, we trust, materially departed 
from the principles of their ancestors. The English 
<ilergy, we do not scruple to say, are still zealously at- 
tached to the interests of virtue and religion ; are still 
in general, faithful, diligent, and regular in the dis- 
charge of their sacred functions. They are still sin- 
cere friends to real constitutional freedom ; and the very 
;same love of it, which at the Revolution led them to 
xefuse a slavish and unlimited obedience to the illegal 
mandates of arbitrary power, induces them now to pro- 
mote, both by their doctrine and their example, that 
dutiful respect, and conscientious submission to all 
lawful authority, which the Gospel most peremptorily 
•enjoins ; the extreme want of which is at present but 
too visible, and yet without which no true liberty can 
long subsist. But although, on these grounds, they 
have judged it expedient to throw their weight into 
the scale of government, yet they have done this with^ 
out any unbecoming vehemence or heat ; and amidst 
all the violent dissensions which have lately agitated 
this kingdom they have, as a body, conducted them- 
selves with a degree of prudence, temper, mildness and 
moderation, which must do them no small credit in the 
eyes of every unprejudiced observer*. And that, in 
other respects, their talents, their learning, and their 
morals, are such as have gained them general approba^ 
tion and esteem, may be collected from this single cir- 
cumstance ; that when you want to find out proper in- 
structors for your children, you naturally turn your 
thoughts to the clergy ; and it is in their hands, in their 
houses, you chuse to place whatever you hold most 
dear and valuable in the world. To them, in short, 
has long been, and still is, confided that most important 
trust, the education of youth ; a trust which it is no 
vain boast to say, they have discharged with fidelity 

* These remarks, thaugh first made in the year 177^, are no less true at 
*he present moment. 



SERMON XXV. 32r 

antl ability*. Under their direction, the schools and 
universities of this kingdom have acquired an acknow- 
ledged superiority over all the other seminaries of Eu- 
rope. In their colleges have been formed most of those 
great and illustrious characters that have contributed 
to the glory and prosperity of this country : and even 
among that large number of persons here present, there 
are few I apprehend, who have not, at some period of 
their lives, derived considerable benefit from the instruc- 
tions of our order. 

These known and undeniable facts are, we conceive, 
very unequivocal proofs of our good conduct and good 
estimation ; and ought greatly to outweigh all those un- 
merited calumnies which are so often thrown both upon- 
the order in general, and the individuals of which it is 
composed, by those who know very litde of eitherf- 
That there are in ours, as in every other profession, se- 
veral unworthy members, it is in vain to deny ; and 
where can be the wonder, if in so very numerous a so- 
ciety some apostates should be found ? But take the 
whole in one collective view, and it may with the great- 
est truth be affirmed, that you will no where find, either 
in ancient or modern times, a body of more than ten 
thousand persons, situated in the midst of a populous, 
rich, commercial, luxurious kingdom, surrounded with 
every temptation, and every danger to which virtue can 
be exposed, whose morals are so blameless, and so lit- 
tle injured by the general contagion, as those of the 

* How well qualified they are for this employment, has been fully 
shown by a consumxnate judge of the subject of education, in the Dialogues- 
s?i the Uses of Foreign Travel, 1st ed. Dial. 2. p. 183, The attentive pevusat! 
of these inimitable Dialogues is strongly recommended to all those who* 
prefer a foreign university to our own, or who suffer their sons to ramble 
over Europe at an early and most dangerous period of life, not only without 
a clerical governor, but even sometimes without any governor at all. 

t " The rule,'* says a great and good prelate, ** which most of our ad- 
*' versaries seem to have set themselves is, to be at all adventures as bitter 
** as they can ; and they follow it not only beyond truth, but beyond proba- 
" bility ; asserting the very worst things of us withont foundation, and ex- 
" aggerating every thing without mercy ; imputing the faults, and some- 
** times imaginary faults of particular persons, to the whole order ; and- 
** then declaiming against us all promiscuously with such wild vehemence, 
*' as, in any case but ours, they themselves would think in the highest dc« 
«* gree cruel and unjust." Seeker" t Chargest p. 5* 



3^8 SERMON XXV. 

English clergy. With respect to that part of them, 
more especially, whose families (when they themselves 
shall be no more) will probably want the protection of 
this charity, it is but justice to them to say, that their 
conduct renders them worthy of every act of kindness 
which their poverty may require- Contented ^ humble, 
modest, patient, and laborious, their lives arc divided 
between fulfilling the duties of their profession, and 
struggling with the diiSculties of their situation* Nay^ 
it is to their virtue chiefly that these very distresses 
are owing. They are formed with the same passions 
and propensities as other men ; and were they as little 
scrupulous about the means of gratifying them as oth- 
ers too commonly are ; had they adopted that very com- 
modious system of modern ethics, which ranks hypoc- 
risy and adultery among the requisites of a good educa- 
tion, there w^ould certainly be no need for us ever to 
become your petitioners for their widows and children* 
But as they have been trained up in a religion which 
requires unblemished purity of manners and of heart, 
they think themselves bound to keep within the limits 
prescribed by their heavenly Master, and to allovy 
themselves no gratifications but those which he has 
pronounced lawful and honorable. Hence they are of- 
ten induced to contract early marriages, and find them- 
selves surrounded by a numerous family before they arc 
provided with the means of supporting them. At the 
same time they are expected to live creditably, and to 
maintain a decent hospitality amongst their neighbors. 
To them the poor, the sick, the distressed part of their 
fipck, naturally look up, as their chief refuge and sup- 
port ; and in some small villages (if you except paro- 
chial relief) the minister of the parish is almost the only 
resource they have. These demands he is commonly 
inclined to answer to the utmost of his power. Per- 
haps, too, he may have the misfortune of a little taste 
for books, which is not indulged without expense ; and 
from his acquaintance with the best and purest writers 
of antiquity, as well as from the habits and connections 
®f his early years, he may have acquired sentiments 



SERMON XXV. , 529 

and feelings far beycnd the straitness of his circum- 
stances, and the humility of his condition. Hence, 
besides the large sums which he is often obliged to ex- 
pend on the necessary repairs of his parsonage, he may 
possibly be induced to add a few conveniences to it ; 
he may even be tempted, by the natural beauties of its 
situation, to expend more in improving and adorning 
his little territories, and in rendering them comfortable 
and delightful to himself and those that follow him, 
than in strict prudence he ought. In a few years his 
sons must be sent to schools and universities, or to 
trades and professions : and if, perchance, he should be 
ambitious of giving his daughters also a few useful ac- 
complishments, let us pardon him this wrong ; it is the 
only fortune he can give them. These expenses neces- 
sarily oblige him to anticipate his narrow income, and 
to contract, perhaps a considerable debt ; a load which 
often lies so heavy upon his mind, that it brings him 
prematurely down with sorrow to the grave. Then it 
is that his wife and children find themselves plunged 
not only in the severest affliction, but in embarrass- 
ments out of which they are utterly unable to extricate 
themselves. It is then the widow may, with but too 
much propriety, address herself to every one of us in 
the words of tlie text, '* Thy servant my husband is 
** dead, and thou knowest that thy servant did fear the 
** Lord, and the crcJior is come to take unto him my 
^' two sons to be bond-men." Her children cannot, 
indeed, in this land of freedom, be literally carried into 
bondage ; but it is necessary, both for their subsistence 
and her's, that they should all, in one way or other, be 
t^tn away from her, and subjected probably to much 
harsher usage than they had hitherto experienced. The 
liead is gone, and the little society is dissolved ; they 
must quit the beloved mansion where they have spent 
their lives, and which they have made so neat and cheer- 
ful at their own cost, perhaps widi the labor of their 
own hands. The small remnant of books and furniture, 
that constituted all their VvCalth, they see disposed of for 
die benefit of their creditors ; ^nd then — they have no- 



m SERMON XXV. 

thing to do but to disperse themselves where they can' 
to seek support. 

In this critical moment it is that these charitable es- 
tablishments open their friendly arms to receive them 
and each bears its respective part in ministering to their 
necessities*. Tbe Incorporate Society takes the wi- 
dow under its immediate protection, and allows her a 
decent pension so long as her condition and her cir- 
cumstances continue unchanged. The Society of Stew- 
ards and Subscribers, instituted in the year 1749, un- 
dertakes the maintenance and education of her children, 
till they are of age to be apprenticed ; and when (hey 
are of sufficient age, The Society of the Feast of the 
Sofis of the Clergy provides them with proper masters, 
and puts them into a way of obtaining a comfortable 
subsistence, and becoming useful members of society. 
Thus you see, each of these excellent institutions 
has its proper use and peculiar department ; and all of 
them concur in forming one noble comprehensive plan 
of national charity. But this plan can never be carried 
into execution without the aid of the wealthy and the 
great. The Corporation has indeed a fund of its own ; 
but this fund, without occasional donations and bene- 
factions, would be very inadequate to the objects that 
stand in need of its assistance. As to the other two 
humane societies, one of which educates the poor or- 
phans wdiich the other places out in the world, these 
I say, are entirely supported by voluntary contributions 
and subscriptions j and you will not, I am sure, 
through an ill-judged parsimony, " suffer any of our 
^* little ones to perishf." 

Yet, notwithstanding the apparent iltility,^ and even= 
necessity, of these benevolent foundations, their friends 
have with no small concern observed, that they have 
for some time past been rather losing ground than 
gaining it. For this,; various reasons have been as- 
signed ; but none, I apprehend, of sufficient weight to- 
abate any thing of our ardor in support of such gen- 
erous designs. It has been thought by some, that 

* See the note above page 320, 321.- f Matt. XYili. 14. 



SERMON XXV. 331 

n:Tiere is now the less need for a general contribution 
■of this nature for the widows and children of the cler- 
gy, because there are in particular dioceses several lo- 
-cal institutions of the same kind. It is true there are ; 
but they are not near so universal as might be wished : 
they reach only, I conceive, to a small part of the king- 
dom, and their operation is of course confined within 
a narrow compass. But were they much more nume- 
rous than diey arc, were dicy even spread through every 
part of the island, yet still this original parent of them 
all ought to be preserved and fostered with religious 
veneration and care. For the growing increase of ex- 
pense in many necessary articles of life, makes a pro- 
portionable increase in the wants of the poorer clergy, 
which by this means keep pace with the provisions 
made in their favor ; and they can but ill spare the 
loss of any assistance, whether general or local, which 
they have been accustomed to receive. 

There is still another circumstance which may have 
.contributed to the decrease of our collections, and that 
is the great number of other public charities of various 
kinds, which have of late years been established in this 
kingdom. And if this is really the case, we must not, 
we do not, complain. If others cannot be benefited 
but by our loss, we are content. But when we find 
ourselves in the very center of the richest commercial 
city in the worlds, we cannot possibly entertain the 
least apprehensions on this head. In any other place, 
perhaps, there might be room to fear that the stream of 
beneficence, when divided into several new channels, 
might forsake the old. But be these channels ever so 
numerous, your liberality can fill them all. It is as in- 
exhaustible as your wealth, which is daily flowing in 
upon you from every quarter of the globe, and can en- 
rich and fertilize a vast variety of different regions at 
the same time. Let then other charities spring up in 
whatever numbers they will ; we look not upon them 
with an envious or a jealous eye ; we consider them 

* This sermari was preached in St. Paul's church, in the presence of the 
l^ord Mayor, Alderman, &c. of the city of London. 



63a SERMON XXV; 

not as rivalsy but as shai'ers, in fo\3^ bounty, which 
is able to embrace both them and us. Far from wish-^ 
ing to discourage, far from wishing^ to depreciate, other 
benevolent institutions, and to form invidious compariw 
sons between them and ours, we sincerely wish them, 
on the contrary, all imaginable success, in full conit^ 
dence that in a capital like this it will not, it cannotv 
be any obstruction to our own. You yourselves are 
iQfur witnesses, that there are none more ready to coun^ 
tenance every humane design than the English clergy **• 
There is hardly one public charity to be named that 
has not some of our order amongst its friends and sup- 
porters ; and if we have any gifts of ek)quence, any 
powers of persuasion to boast, they arc always ready^ 
at your call to recommend every generous plan that 
you think fit to patronize ; your schools, your hospi- 
tals, your sick, your prisoners, your poor. That as- 
sistance, then, which we are ever disposed to give, we 
now hope in our turn to receive. Strike out into as 
Jnany different paths of benevolence as you please ;. yet 
desert not, we beseech you, the old, the tried, the ap- 
proved one, to which you have been so long accus- 
tomed. This charityt has always been your favorite 
child ; it has been born and bred amongst you ; yon 
have hitherto nursed and cherished it with the tenderest 
care ; do not now abandon it to the wide world, where 
it is not yet strong enough to make its way without 
your help. 

You have seen, I trust, upon the whole, that they 
for whose families we beg relief, " are worthy for 
" whom you should do thisj:" that those on whom 
they depended for support and whose help they have 
lost, were, both by profession and by principle, most 
useful members of society ; and yet were unable to 
leave their children any other inheritaace than that of 

* One very recent and remarkable proof of this ouglit not to be passed 
ever i VI silence. Mr. Hetheringtcn, 3. private clergyman, gave birth, withiii : 
these few years, to a new and most ^udicioiis species of chanty. He es- 
tablished ail annual provision for £fty blind persons, and appropriated, in hki 
life-time, to this excellent purpose, a fund of twenty thousand pounds. 

•f Ichidingthe three diifereht branches of it abovementioned, p. 32Qj3^^ 
t Luke vii. 4^ ^ . --j. ■ 



SERMON XXV. 333 

extreme povert}', aggravated by the remembraftce of 
happier days, and by minds susceptible of the keenest 
feelings. May these considerations have their due in- 
fluence on your hearts ! And may we, my reverend ' 
brethren, never forget that it is in our power, by our 
future conduct, to give these considerations v^hatever 
weight we think fit I If we do not give them all we 
can ; if, in proportion as we stand more in need of 
public favor, we do not redouble our endeavors to de- 
serve it ; by a discreet inoffensive behavior and con- 
versation, by residence on our preferments, by a close 
attention, to the proper studies and functions- of our 
profession, by fervent piety, by extensive charity, by 
meekness and hurriility, by a disinterested and ardent 
zeal for the advancement of religion, and the salvation 
of mankind ; if, I say, by these, and such-like evan- 
gelical virtues, we do not support the credit of our 
character, and by real usefulness acquire veneration 
a,nd esteem ; we shall be no less blind to our interest, 
tiian unmindful of our duty both to God and man**. 

* See Archbishop Seeker's 4:ruly pastoral Charges throughout ; which well 
deserve the serious attention of .every sincere and conscientious clcrgTtnan ik 
«vcry rank of the profession. 



SERMON XXVL 

EcCLESIASTES xii. 1. 

Remember now thy Creator in the dmjs of thy youth. 

THE reason why we are here, and in other places of 
Scripture, more particularly enjoined to remember 
<J0D IN OUR YOUTH, is obvious ; it is, because wp 
are then most apt to forget him. Indeed, in every stage 
of life as well as this, the cares and pleasures of the 
world too often engross our chief attention, and banish 
for a while the remembrance of our Maker. But it is 
in youth only we seem to be sunk in a total forget- 
fulness of Religion, and *' to have not God in all our 
** thoughts." In a more advanced age, reason becomes 
so strong, or appetite so weak, tliat even in the busiest 
and the gayest scenes, we must have some intervals of 
thinking, we must have our solitary and serious mo- 
ments, in which the idea of a God "uoill recur and force 
itself upon our minds. The calamities and disappoint- 
ments which we meet with, as we travel forwards in 
this vale of tears, the loss of friends or of fortune, acute 
pains, and lingering diseases, are so many awakening 
instances of our weakness and dependence, and compel 
us, in spite of indolence or pride, to look up to Hea- 
ven, and our Father that is in Heaven, for assistance 
and protection. But in youth, these faithful monitors 
are wanting ; there are, then, generally speaking, no 
cares or afflictions to remind us of our Creator, and 
bring us to a just sense of our duty. The novelty of 
the objects that successively surround us at our first 
Entrance into Hfe, supplies us with a perpetual fund of 



SERMON XX VL S35 

entertainment ; and an uninterrupted flow of health and 
spirits ** fills our mouth with laughter, and our tongue 
** with joy." We find ourselves happy, and consider 
not who it was that made us so ; wc find ourselves in a 
wide theatre of action, and without thinking how we 
are to perform our respective parts upon it, survey witti; 
rapture those enchanting scenes that every where open^ 
to our view, and launch out in pursuit of the pleasures 
that are before us with so much eagerness and precipi- 
tation, as to leave no time either to trace them back- 
wards to their source, or forwards to their consequences. 
From these false steps in our setting out, flow most of 
the fatal errors and miscarriages of our future conduct ; 
and for want of a little recollection when we are young, 
we too often lay up a store of misery for the remaining 
part of our existence here, and for all eternity here- 
after. 

Since, then, in our early years, we are for the most part 
destitute of those useful mementos, and those favorable 
seasons of recollection, which occur so often in the 
other parts of life ; and are, therefore, more particular- 
ly prone to forget our Maker at a time when it least 
becomes us so to do, the admonition contained in the 
text must seem highly proper, and cannot be too often 
inculcated, in order to supply, in some measure, that 
unhappy insensibility, that inattention to every thing 
serious and religious, which is so generally observable,, 
Kud so much complained of, in youth. 

No man could be more sensible of this, or more, 
seriously lament it, than the royal preacher from 
whom these words are taken. He saw a melancholy 
instance of it in the conduct of his own son, who 
began now probably to give some indications of that 
fiery and ungovernable temper, which afterwards 
proved so fatal to himself, and to his kingdom. 
He, therefore, urges the necessity of remembering 
God in our youth, not only with all the authority of an 
experienced sage, and an inspired writer but with all 
the tenderness of a parent solicitous for the welfare and. 
prosperity of his child. 



«56 SERMON XXVI. 

And this may, perhaps, be one reason of those frew 
quent and pressing exhortations to an early piety^ 
which are every where scattered np and down in his 
writings. They had, however, no doubt, a view to 
the depravity of youth in general, as well as of Reho^ 
boam in particular ; and as we may, I think, venture 
to say, that there is at least as much occasion for a re^ 
peated injunction of this duty in the present times, as in 
the days of Solomon, it shall be the business of this dis- 
course to recommend and enforce an early piety, by 
showing, first, the reasonableness and propriety of it ; 
and, secondly, by pointing out some of the principal 
advantages which will attend the practice of it. 

1. First, then, I am to show the reasonableness and 
propriety of remembering our Creator in the days of 
our youth. 

And here it is evident, that by remembering our 
Creator, we are not merely to understand a habit of re^ 
calling the bare idea of him to our mind, or a cold, 
lifeless contemplation of his existence, but such a fer- 
vent, affectionate, grateful remembrance, as is some- 
times kindled in our breasts by thinking on an absent 
or a departed friend, when every tender circumstance of 
that endearing connection rushes in upon the soul, and 
all his friendly offices, all the pleasing instances of his 
love and kindness towards us, present themselves at 
once to our view. We must not only remember that 
he is, but that he is our Creator, and that with all those 
sentiments of piety and love, w^hich such a relation na- 
turally suggests. We must remember that he gave us* 
life and all its blessings, all that we actually enjoy here or 
hope to enjoy hereafter ; and we must show the reality 
of this remembrance by making a suitable return for 
such invaluable favors. For even in the most familiar 
forms of speaking, to remember a kindness is to re- 
quite it ; and the only return that a creature can make 
to his Creator, is an uniform obedience to his wiil, and 
a punctual observance of all his laws. But that which 
the text more particularly recommends to the young 
man, is the remembrance of God as Ms Creator^ not 



SERMON XXVr. 357 

Only because the communication of existence of course 
includes every other blessing, but because this considera- 
tion is more peculiarly adapted to the circumstances of 
those to whom the precept is addressed. For if even 
when life is become familiar to us, when we have tasted 
its sorrows as well as its joys, the remembrance of our 
Creator is yet apt sometimes to excite the warmest re- 
turns of gratitude and devotion, how ought this reflection 
to work on the hearts of those who are, as it were, fresh 
from the hands of their Maker, and unacquainted with 
every thing in life but its blessings ? How can the 
young man forbear breaking out with the royal psalm- 
ist into that passionate overflov/ing of a grateful heart ; 
" Praise the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within 
" me praise his holy name. Praise the Lord, O my 
'^ soul, and forget not all his benefits : who forgi- 
'' veth all thy sins, and healeth all thine infirmities ; 
" w^ho saveth thy life from destruction, andcrowneth 
*' thee with mercy and loving kindness ; who satisfieth 
*' thy mouth with good things, making thee young and 
*' lusty as an eagle^." One would imagine, indeed, 
that instead of thinking it could ever be too soon, men 
should rather fear it would be always full late, to remem- 
ber their Creator, and that life itself would be short 
enough for making returns to his unbounded mercies. 
Yet such, is the strange perverseness, shall I call it, or 
thoughtlessness of youth, that the goodness of God gen- 
erally produces a quite contrary effect ; and that profu- 
sion of happiness, which ought to bind them for ever to 
his service, is the very thing that supplants him in their 
affections, and banishes the remembrance of him from 
their minds. Their pleasures and pursuits follow so 
close upon one another, as to leave no room for any se- 
rious reflections to intervene ; or if, by chance, any 
religious thought intrude upon the series of their joys, 
they instantly dismiss the unbidden, unwelcome guest, 
with the answer of Felix to Paul ; *' Go thy way for 
" this time, when we have a convenient season we will 
'* send for thee.'' But let not the young man flatter him- 

* Psalm ciii. 1, 2, 3, 4. 5. 

T t 



338 SERMON XXVI. 

self that any season is so convenient as the present, or 
that God will be content with the dregs of life, and the 
refuse of his years ; let him not foolishly imagine, that 
after having spent his best days in the service of sin, 
the wretched remains of them are an offering fit for 
his Creator ; or that a soul polluted with guilt, and a 
body emaciated with disease, will be accepted at the al- 
tar of the Almighty. No ; he demands the first and 
fairest of all our days,.the first and purest motions of the 
heart ; the first fruits " of that vineyard which his 
*' right hand hath planted, and of the branch, that he 
" made so strong for himself*.'" 

It can be, indeed, but little proof of our loyalty not 
to rebel against our Sovereign, when we have not 
strength to take up arms,, and there are no temptations 
to make us^werve from our allegiance ; but if, when 
we are in our full strength and vigor ;. when the danger 
is near, and the enemy at the gate, trying every method 
to subdue our virtue, and corrupt our fidelity ; if we 
then withstand in the evil day^ reject his offers, re- 
pel his violence, elude his stratagems^ and baffle 
all his attempts, we shall then j indeed,, show ourselves 
good subjects and faithful soldiers of our heavenly 
Master ; we shall have fought the good fight of faith, 
and when death shall release us from our station^ 
may humbly hope to receive, through the merits of our 
Redeemer, the wages of our Christian warfare ; not 
tliose perishable crowns, and that visionary immortali* 
ty, whichare the poor rewards of earthly heroes, but a 
crown of glory that fadeth not away, a real immortality 
of happiness in Heaven,. 

But this consideration more properly belongs to the 
second head, under which I proposed to consider some 
of the principal advantages arising from a course of 
early piety. 

II. And first ; he who remembers his Creator in 
the days of his youth, may depend upon it, that his Cre» 
ator will not forget him all the days of his life. A reli- 
gious young person is above all others, peculiarly ac-^ 

* Psal. Ixxx. 15. 



SERMON XX VT. 33^ 

ceptable to the Almighty ; an object upon which he 
looks down with an eye of uncommon favor and appro- 
bation. There cannot, indeed, be conceived a specta- 
cle more great and lovely, than to see a young man 
struggling with the temptations of the world, the ty- 
ranny of custom, the solicitations of evil compan}^ and 
the strength of evil passions. To see him not *' mean- 
" ly following a multitude to do evil," but bravely 
stemming the popular torrent ; and whilst those around 
him deviate either on the one hand into the beaten road 
of vice, or on the other into the endless mazes of 
gaiety and folly ; to see him left standing alone w^ith 
virtue in the midst, and daring to be singularly good. 
To see the vigor of his understanding not sunk in sen- 
suality, or dissipated in trifles, but rising to the noblest 
pursuits after truth and virtue ; and the alacrity of his 
spirits not exhausted in the wild sallies of intemperate 
mirth, in ruining his own and others' innocence, and 
disturbing the peace and order of society ; but exert- 
ing itself in the most lively display of every generous 
and social duty, in giving life to his devotions, and 
achieving the conquest over his passions. To see him, 
in short, sacrificing the flower of his days, his gaieties, 
his pleasures, and diversions, at the altar of his Crea- 
tor ; and in spite of the impotent wit and raillery of his 
gay companions, in spite of all the obstructions that the 
wickedness of man, or the deceitfulness of his own 
heart, can throw in his way, steadily and resolutely per^ 
severing in a uniform course of piety and virtue to the 
last. 

It cannot fail, but such an one must, in the ordinary- 
course of things, draw down upon himself the choi- 
cest blessings of Heaven. He sets out in life wdth fair- 
er prospects and greater advantages fnan all his rival 
contemporaries, with the blessing of God upon all his 
undertakings, and a moral assurance, that whatsoever 
he doeth, it shall prosper. And it must surely be a 
most comfortable reflection to him, that ** he thus 
" grows under the defence of the Most High, and 
^^ flourishes under the shadow of the Almighty." It 



340' SERMON XXVI. 

must give life to all his designs, inspire him with a 
manly fortitude in all his resolutions, and diffuse an 
even cheerfulness and composure through his whole 
deportment, whilst, like his blessed Master in the 
same period of life, *' he grows in stature and in wis- 
*' dom, and in favor vi^ith God and man*." 

2. By remembering God in our youth, we save the 
pains of recollecting . him in old age, " when the evil 
** days come, 'V (as come they assuredly will) *' in 
*' which we shall say, we have no pleasure in them.'* 
If religion is a lesson we must some time or other 
learn, we cannot begin too soon. It is not a thing to 
be taken up at our leisure, a work to be done when we 
have nothing else to do ; but will find full employment 
for all the time and pains w^e can bestow upon it. 
Youth is the time when the seeds of every Christian 
grace and virtue are to be sown in our hearts. If W'C 
neglect this favorable season, and suffer the tares to 
spring up in their room, we shall not only have the 
painful task of implanting new affections and new de- 
sires in a worn-out soil, but of eradicating the old 
ones ; and that, too, when they have grown up with 
us so long, and are so interwoven wdth our very con- 
stitutions, that to rend them away from the soul, will 
be like plucking out an eye, or tearing off a limb from 
the body. The Scriptures have labored to express, in 
the strongest terms, the extre-iae difficulty of such an 
undertaking, and made use of the boldest figures to 
impress a deep sense of it upon our minds. They 
call such a reformation in an advanced age, " beco- 
'' ming a new creature, putting off the old man and put- 
*^ ting on the new," and compare it to ** the leopard 
*' changing its spots, and the Ethiopian his skinf." 
Indeed the great hardship of the task may well justify 
such expressions ; and if any one considers what 
pains it costs him to wean himself even from the most 
whimsical and trifling customs which he has accident- 
ally acquired and long indulged, he will easily con- 
ceive what inw^ard pangs and agonies he must undergo, 

* Luke ii. 52. t 2 Cor. v. 17. Ephes. iv. 22. 24. Jer. xui. 23. 



SERMON XXVL 541 

before he can entirely eradicate habits that are grafted 
on the strongest natural desires ; and clFect such a to- 
tal change in the whole frame and temper, in the color 
and complexion of his mind, as is absolutely necessary 
to render his reformation effectual. 

We are told, indeed, in Scripture, that ^' the '^vays 
** of Religion are ways of pleasantness, and that all her 
*' paths are peace ;" and so they most certainly are ; 
but it is to those only who have been accustom.ed to 
walk in them from their youth up. The gite that 
leadeth to this way is narrow and strait, and the road, at 
first, so rugged and uneven, that if we do not enter 
-upon it till "" the day is far spent, and the night draweth 
" on," we shall neither have time nor strength to sur- 
mount the many obstacles we shall meet w ith. But if 
the young man sets out in the mornii^g of life, the 
freshness of his strength and spirits, aided by the in- 
fluences of divine grace, will carry hivn through every 
difficulty. As he advances forwards, his toil grows 
less ; the asperities of the way gradually disappear ; 
the path grows \\ ider, and the prospect opens, till he 
sees at last, with the eye of faith, that land of promise 
to which he hastens ; a sight that cheers and revives 
him ; when after the labors of his journey, his soul 
begins to faint within him. And this suggests to us 
a third advantage resulting from an early sense of Re- 
ligion, namely, the satisfaction and comfort it will af- 
ford us on the bed of death. 

3. However the young libertine fnay now boast him- 
self, and triumph in his impiety, and laugh at the scru- 
pulous timidity of those who deny themselves a thou- 
sand pleasures, which be boldly snatches without hesi- 
tation or remorse, yet there will come a time, and God 
knows how soon it may come, when his heart will quake 
for fear, when he will believe and tremble. Nor must 
he vainly flatter himself that the evil day is far off, or 
that when it does come, he shall face it with the same 
steadiness and intrepidity with which he now affronts 
his Maker. For whilst he sees '' thousands even of 
** his own age, fall beside him, and ten thousand at his 



542 SERMON XXVI. 

'*' ri^ht hand/' how can he be sure that the danger will 
not come nigh him, especially as he takes the surest 
method to bring it near him, and to quicken the pace 
of death by his intemperance. It must, however, at 
last overtake him ; and when it does, all his vaunted 
courage will at once desert him. The stoutest hearts 
will fail, and the fiercest spirits will be broken, when 
that dreadful day arrives. Our own history, and that 
of other nations, will furnish us with abundant instan- 
ces, where the boldest chiefs in iniquity, who have glo- 
Tied in the most open and avowed contempt of Reli- 
:gion, have yet been so utterly dismayed at the approach 
of death, as to sink into the most abject superstition 
^nd unmanly complaints. It is not that enterprizing 
spirit which carries a man so successfully through this 
world, that will avail him in his entrance on the next. 
Nothing can then support him amidst the terrors of 
dissolution, and the pangs of parting with all that is 
dear and near to him, but the reflection on a well- spent 
life ; and as we shall stand in need of every possible 
increase of comfort, we ought to sweeten this reflection 
all we can, by beginning early to remember God. For 
we must not imagine, what some are willing to per- 
suade themselves, that a death- bed repentance will have 
the same eflfect upon our minds in our last moments, 
as a life of early piety or early repentance. They who 
-think so, show themselves to be utter strangers to the 
real situation of a dying man. They know not the 
^terror and amazement, the fears and apprehensions, of 
a soul that stands trembling on the brink of eternity, 
and whose salvation depends on a death-bed repentance. 
He fears, he knows not what, about the sincerity of 
that repentance ; he fears his contrition may not have 
been deep enough, his amendment not complete ; that 
some crimes may not have appeared to him in their 
full guilt and baseness, and some may have entirely es- 
caped his search. He enhances every real danger, and 
creates to himself a thousand more ; and whatever may 
^e the efficacy of that repentance, with regard to his 
future condition, it cannot in his presmit yield him that 



SERMON XXVI. 34:^ 

comfortable hope, that humble confidence in the me- 
rits of his Redeemer, which is absolutely necessary ta 
the quiet of the mind, in so interesting a point. Thi^ 
can only be the result of a life, in which, upon the most 
important review, there appears nothing to lament but 
those frailties and infirmities which man cannot but 
sometimes fall into, and which God, through the me- 
diation and death of Christ, has most graciously pro* 
mised to forgive. And in this review, the further we 
can cast our eyes backwards on our sincere, though, 
imperfect endeavors after holiness, and the nearer we 
can trace up the beginning of our religious obedience 
to the beginning of life, the more pleasing will be the 
retrospect, the more unallayed our satisfaction. EveriF 
impulse of passion we have subdued, every temptation 
we have resisted or escaped, every evil thought we 
have restrained, and every good one we have encoura- 
ged, will then each rise up to befriend us, and speak 
peace to our affrighted souls. And though the reli- 
gious young man may now, perhaps, complain of the 
difficulties he hath to struggle with, yet let him remem- 
ber, that the bitterer his present sensations are, the 
more joyful will be his reflections at that momentous 
period. It is then, in short, and only then, we see the 
true difference between him that serveth God in his 
youth, and him that serveth him not ; and whoever 
compares their diflferent circumstances and behavior on 
that trying occasion, will most sincerely wish *' that 
'^ he may die the death of the righteous, and that his 
*•' latter end may be like his." But let us remember^ 
that it is not a mere inactive ijoish alone that can pro- 
cure us this inestimable blessing ; let us remember^ 
that if we would die the death of the righteous, we must 
seriously resolve and endeavor from our youth up, to- 
ll ve his life, and that the best preparation for a latter 
end like his, will be to take care that our early years be 
like his also. 



SERMON XXVII. 



1 Kings xviii. 21. 

jirhd Elijah came unto all the fieo file ^ and said-, How long halt ijt 
between tivo opinions ? If the Lord be Gody follow him ; but 
if Baal^j then follow him. 

NOTWITHSTANDING the many express com- 
mands given to the Jews to worship the one only 
true God, and die many admirable provisions made in 
their law to preserve them from the adoration of any 
other; yet it is notorious, that from the timeof their lea- 
vingEgypt,down to the Babylonish captivity, they were 
frequently falling into idolatry. It must be observed, 
however, that this idolatry of theirs, wicked and inex- 
cusable as it undoubtedly was, did not consist in abso- 
lutely renor.rjcing the worship of the true God, but in 
joining with it the worship of false gods. This they 
did in imitation of the heathen nations around them, 
who, like all other pagans, though they had each their 
peculiar tutelary deities, yet made no scruple of asso- 
ciating those of any other people along with them. In 
conformity to which accommodating temper, the Jews 
themselves probably considering the God of Israel as 
their national God, imagined that their allegiance to 
him was not violated by admitting other local deities 
to a share in his worship. It was this absurd and im- 
pious custom of joining the adoration of idols to that of 
the true God, against which we find so many precepts 
and exhortations in the OJd Testament directed, and 



SERMON XXVIL 345 

such severe punishments denounced. And in opposi- 
tion to this strange practice it was, that Elijah proposes 
to the idolatrous Ahab and his people, an effectual me- 
thod of deciding which was the true God, Jehovah or 
Baal ; and he introduces his proposal with that spirited 
expostulation, contained in the words of the text. 
*' How long halt ye between two opinions ? If the Lord 
*' be God, follow him ; but if Baal, then follow him." 
This was in effect, saying. How long will ye act this 
base disingenuous part, of attempting to serve two 
masters, and to worship at once both the Lord and 
Baal ? The Lord is a jealous God, He demands your 
whole affection. He will not be served by halves ; he 
will not accept of a divided empire with Baal. Chnse 
ye, then, whom you will serve, and no longer halt be- 
tween two directly opposite and inconsistent opinions. 
If you are persuaded (and never had any people more 
reason to be persuaded) that the Lord Jehovah, the great 
Creator of Heaven and earth, is the only true God, act 
agreeably to such persuasion. Follow him, and him 
only ; serve him sincerely, uniformly, and entirely, 
with all your heart, and soul, and mind, and strength : 
and live a life of virtue and holiness, in obedience to his 
commands. But if, on the contrary, you can, in op- 
position to the plainest and strongest evidence, bring 
yourselves seriously to believe that Baal is God, follow 
him. Follow him (if your nature recoil not at it) 
through all those impure and detestable practices which 
his worship authorizes and requires. But come not 
thus reeking with idolatry to the altar of the Lord. 
He will accept of no sacrifices from such polluted hands. 
Baal is then your God, and you are his people. To 
him alone offer up your vows ; from him only expect 
the supply of all yom' wants, and deliverance from alt 
your calamities. 

The observation naturally arising from the text thus 
explained, is this : That as God would not allow a par- 
tial vv^orship under the Mosaic dispensation, neither will 
he admit of partial faith, and partial obedience, un- 
der the Christian covenant. 

Uu 



346 SERMON XXVII. 

He who was the God of the Jews, is also the God of 
the Christians ; has from the same invariable pre-emi- 
nence of his divine nature, the same claim to our entire 
and unreserved submission to his will, is equally jea- 
lous of his own glory and of our allegiance, and equally 
averse to any rival in our affections, and our set-vices. 
It was the duty of the Jew to believe and obey the 
whole law of Moses. It is the duty of the Christian 
to believe and obey the whole law of Christ. In op- 
position to the doctrines and duties of the Mosaic law, 
stood the extravagant conceits of Gentile theology, and 
the execrable impurities and barbarities of idolatrous 
worship. In opposition to the doctrines and duties of 
the Gospel, stand the fanciful refinements of modern 
philosophy, and the allurements of a sinful world, which 
are now too frequently distracting the belief, and di- 
viding the obedience of Christians, as superstition and 
idolatry did formerly those of the Jews. And it is no 
more allowable to halt in our belief between deism and 
revelation, and in our practice between God and Mam- 
mon, than it was in the Jews formerly to follow at 
once both the Lord and Baal. The text, therefore, 
when divested of all peculiarity of circumstance, and 
brought home to ourselves, aifords this general and use- 
ful principle, that we should not waver between two 
systems, and endeavor to serve at the same time two 
masters ; but entirely devote ourselves either to the 
one or the other, and stand to all the consequences of 
our choice. This admonition seems not improperly 
calculated for the state of Religion among ourselves at 
this day, and rnay \)q applied with equal justice both to 
our f:dth and practice. 

But I shall, in this discourse, confine my obser- 
vations almost entirely to the latter, as being the most 
useful, and the best suited to the business of this place. 
For although much might be said respecting strange 
conceits in matters of fciith ; although there are, it is 
v/ell known, in this country, as well as in others, a few 
individuals who think themselves at liberty to select out 
of the Gospel, for their creed, just what happens to 



SERMON XXVII. 347 

suit their particular humor or caprice, and to reject all 
the rest, and may therefore very justly be said to '' halt 
*' between two opinions ;" yet the number of these per- 
sons is so inconsiderable, and the reception their te- 
nets meet with is so very unpromising, that to bestow 
much of our attention upon them, would be a very 
needless waste of time. Much less can it be necessary 
to enter here into any confutaticn of their fanciful opi- 
nions. They have been confuted, most effectually 
confuted, above seventeen hundred years ago, and that, 
too, by a book which is, or ought to be, in the hands of 
every Christian ; I mean the Bible. Every page of 
that sacred volume bears testimony against them ; and 
it is utterly impossible for any man of a plain under- 
standing, and of an unprejudiced mind, to look _into 
the Gospel without perceiving, that all those great and 
important doctrines, which our philosophic Christians 
are pleased to reject (and w-hich, in fact, amount to al- 
most every peculiar doctrine of the Gospel, except 
that of the resurrection) are taught and repeatedly in- 
culcated in the sacred writings, in terms as clear, ex- 
plicit, and unequivocal, as it is in the power of language 
to express. They are, in fact, so interwoven with the 
very frame and constitution, wuth the entire substance 
and essence of Christianity, that they must stand or 
fall together. They are found in the same Gospel, 
and are intimately blended and incorporated with those 
moral precepts, and those evidences of a resurrection 
and a future state, which are on all sides allowed to be 
divine ; and there is no such thing as separating them 
from each other, no such thing as dissolving the con- 
nection between them, without undermining the whole 
fabric of Christianity, and defeating the chief purposes 
for which Christ came into the world. 

Let no one, then, that professes himself a disciple 
of Christ, ever be induced to fluctuate thus between 
two systems. Let him never listen to any such de- 
ceitful terms of accommodation with "the vain phi^ 
" losophy of this world," nor suffer himself to be led 
away by *' the delusions of science, falsely so called." 



346 SERMON XXVII. 

Let him never consent to maim and mutilate that comr 
plete and perfect body of Christian doctrine, which 
" is so fitly framed together, and compacted by that 
*' which every joint supplieth," that to take away any 
one member, is to destroy the beauty, strength, and 
stability of the whole. 

Thus much may suffice at present for those who, in 
the language of the text, may be said to halt between 
tnvo opinions, between the Rehgion of nature and the 
Religion of Christ. I now hasten to that which is the 
principal object of this discourse, the practical incnri' 
sistencies with which some men are chargeable. For, 
among the professors of our faith, there are too many 
who, though their speculative opinions may be right 
and uniform, yet in their practice halt between two. 
opposite modes of conduct, and endeavor to serve at 
the same time two masters, God and Mammon. 

I say nothing here of those who are professedly 
men of the world, who disclaim all belief in the doc- 
trines of the Gospel, and all obedience to its law-s. 
These men have taken their part, have adopted a sys- 
tem. A miserable one, indeed, it is ; but it is, how- 
ever, a decided one ; and whatever other guilt they 
may be chargeable with, inconsistency certainly is not 
one of their faults. 

In this respect the children of this w^orld are in their 
generation commonly wiser than the children of light, 
among whom, unfortunately, the same undeviating 
uniform.ity of conduct is not often to be found. Of 
those who acknowledge Christ to be their lord and mas- 
ter, how few are there that adhere to him invariably 
throughout, without ever revolting from their allegi- 
ance, and devoting themselves to another sovereign, 
*' the prince of this world !" 

One man finding it said in Scripture, that charity 
shall cover a multitude of sins, without ever once gi- 
ving himself the trouble to examine into the true 
meaning of that doubtful expression, takes refuge un- 
der the letter of it, and on the strength of a little osten* 
tatious generosity, indulges every irregular passion 



SERMON XXVII. 349 

without control, and fancies himself all the while a seri- 
ous sober Christian. 

A second, rather shocked at this, keeps clear of all 
gross and flagrant enormities ; but hopes that a few se- 
cret and less presumptuous sins will be easily forgiven 
him. 

A third, still more modest and more scrupulous, 
contents himself with one favorite vice, and makes not 
the least doubt but that his exact observance of the di* 
vine law, in other respects, will amply atone for his fail- 
ure in this single instance. 

A fourth advances one step further than this ; he in- 
<1ulges himself in no gratification that seems to deserve 
the name of sin ; but, at the same time, allows the 
gaieties, the amusement^ the business or the cares of 
life, to take entire possession of his soul, to shut out, 
in a great measure, all thoughts of God and Religion, 
and steal away his affections from Heaven and heavenly 
things. 

Lastly ; there is another cla&s of men who are 
irreproachable in their morals, and sufficiently tempe- 
rate, perhaps, in their pursuits of business or of amuse- 
ment, but yet fall short of that steady and affectionate 
attachment to their divine Master, which his Religion 
Inculcates, and his kindness demands. They want 
that zeal and fervor^ that earnestness and activity in his 
service, that absolute resignation to his will, that per- 
fect confidence in his infinite wisdom and goodness, 
that freedom from all immoderate anxiety and solici- 
tude, hope or fear, exultation or disappointment re- 
specting the various events of the present life, which 
are the surest and most unequivocal proofs, that this 
world has little or no share in our affections, but that 
our treasure is in Heaven, and there is our heart also. 

Thus it is, that too many in almost every denomina- 
tion of professed Christians do, in one way or another, 
in a greater or less degree, *' halt between two oppo- 
*' site rules of life," divide their attention between the 
commands of Christ, and the criminal, or the trifling 
enjoyments of die present scenC;, endeavor to accom- 



55D SERMON XXVII. 

modate matters as commodiously as possible, between 
things temporal and things eternal ; and to take as 
much as they can of this world, without losing their 
hold on the rewards of the next. But let no man im- 
pose on himself with these delusive imaginations. Such 
duplicity of conduct is as evidendy contrary both to 
the letter and the spirit of Christ's Religion, and as 
justly obnoxious to the reproof conveyed in the text, 
as the fault already touched upon of " halting between 
'^ tvv^o opinions." Whoever looks into the Gospel, 
with the least degree of attention, must see, that it re- 
quires us to give up our whole soul to God, and pay 
an unreserved and undivided obedience to all his com- 
mands. The language of Christianity to its disciples 
is like that of Solomon in his Proverbs, *' My son give 
" me thine heart*." We are commanded '' to set our 
*' affections on things above, and not on things on the 
" earth : to have our conversation in Heaven ; to love 
" God with all our heart, and soul, and mind, and 
** strength ; to take up our cross and follow Christ ; to 
" leave father, mother, brethren, sisters, houses and 
*' lands, for his name's sake, and the Gospel'sf." 
These, and such like expressions, are, it is well known, 
perpetually occurring in the sacred writings. And al- 
though we are not to understand them so literally, and 
so rigorously, as to conceive ourselves obliged to re- 
nounce the world absolutely, and all its rational and 
innocent enjoyments, to retire into deserts and caves, 
and think of nothing but the concerns of eternity ; yet, 
if we aliow^ these phrases any meaning, they cannot im- 
ply less than this ; that our chief and principal con- 
cern, beyond all comparison, must be to please and 
obey our Maker in all things ; that we must seek first 
the kingdom of God and his righteousness ; that we 
must look up to his law as the great guide and govern- 
ing principle of our lives ; that we must not vibrate 
perpetually between two masters, between two oppo- 
site modes of conduct, between vice and virtue, be- 

* Prov. xxiii. 26. 
f Col. iii. 2. Phil. iii. 2'\ Mark xii. 30. Matth. xvi. 24. xix. 29. 



SERMON XXVII. 551 

tween piety and pleasure, between inclination and duty, 
between this life and the next ; but devote ourselves 
heartily and sincerely to the service of our heavenly 
Father, and suffer no one earthly object to estrange or 
draw away our affections from him. 

The only way, then, for a wise and a good man ta 
take, is to preserve that uniformity and consistence, 
and dignity of character, both in opinion and in prac- 
tice, which is in all cases respectable ; in the Christian 
Religion essential and indispensable. You must, in 
short, as Joshua said to the Jewish people, '* you must 
** chuse, this day, whom you will serve." You must 
take your part, and adhere to it steadily and invariably 
throughout. 

Ifj in the first place, with respect to doctrines and 
matters of belief, you think that you are innocent and 
perfect creatures, that you stand in need of no Re- 
deemer, no Mediator, no expiation for your past, no 
assistance for your future conduct ; that revelation is 
needless, and reason alone sufficient for all the good 
purposes of this life and the next, then follow reason, 
and be consistent with yourselves. Do not repose the 
least part of your hopes on Christ. You have nothing 
to do with him or his Gospel. You can claim nothing 
under his name ; by your own merits you must stand 
or fall ; must go boldly apd with confidence up to the 
throne of God, and demand from his justice, as a matter 
of right, that pardx)n and those rewards which you dis- 
dain to receive from his mercy as a matter of grace. 
But if your m.inds revolt against such presumption 
as this; if you feel yourselves corrupt and sinful, the 
children of vanity and the sport of passions, continually 
transgressing the dictates even of your own reason, and 
of course continually deserving punishment from the 
Giver of that reason ; if you find that something more 
than mere modern philosophy is necessary to heal the 
depravity of your nature, to reconcile you to an offend- 
ed God, to assist you in the performance of your duty, 
to support you under the severest afllictions, and to 
satisfy the cravings of your soul with that fulness of 



352 SERMON XXVII. 

joy which the world, and all the world's wisdom, can 
never give ; if, in fine, you perceive that the Gospel 
of Christ contains every thing you want, and that 
the truth of its pretensions is founded on such sort of 
evidence as no man upon earth was ever yet deceived 
by trusting to in any other case, then follow Christ j 
take him for your only guide in religious knowledge, and 
repose an entire and absolute confidence in his holy 
word. When once you are persuaded that he is an 
inspired teacher, and that he and his Religion came 
from God, no doctrines, however difficult or mysteri- 
ous, how much soever they^ transcend reason, if not re- 
pugnant to it, will be any obstacles in your way. You 
will receive them all with implicit reverence and sub- 
mission, on the sole ground of his testimony. The 
only question to be asked respecting such doctrines is 
this :. Do they actually exist in the Gospel ? Is there 
sufficient evidence for the authenticity of that Gospel ? 
If there be, and this we have all along supposed, the 
dispute is decided, and you can no longer hesitate re- 
specting the admission of truths grounded on such 
authority. 

In the same manner, with respect to practice. If 
you admit the reality of a future existence, and a fu- 
ture day of recompence, and if after deliberately com- 
paring this life with the next^ }'ou do, in your best and 
soberest judgment, think diat present enjoyments are 
more valuable than future and eternal happiness, and a 
little self-denial in this world more insupportable than 
everlasting misery in the next, then let this world be 
the sole idol of your hearts ; to this devote yourselves 
without reserve. It would then be folly to sacrifice any 
pleasures, any advantages to the commands of your 
Maker, or to let one thought about futurity disturb 
your tranquillity, or interrupt your pursuits. 

But if you find this to be impossible ; if you feel 
yourselves to be desif^ned for immortalitv ; if vou can- 
not forbear looking perpetually forward into futurity ; if 
to these sentiments of Nature, Reason adds her voice, 
and Revelation confirms it bv evidence that is irresisti- 



SERMON XXVIL 553 

ble ; if, moreover, on a fair estimate of the respective 
value of things temporal, and things eternal, you are 
convinced that the pains and the pleasures of this world 
are not worthy to be compared v.ith the rewards and 
punishments of the next ; if, in fine, the limited na- 
ture of the human fl^culties, the contrary tempers of 
mind, and courses of action, which contrary pursuits 
require, and the express declarations of Christ him- 
self, prove incontestably that we cannot serve God and 
Mammon, cannot reconcile two opposite modes of 
conduct together ; what, then, is the course which a 
prudent and considerate man has to take ? Why, evi- 
dently, to devote him.self absolutely and entirely to the 
service of his one Lord and Master, and to suffer 
nothing to interfere with that great object of his atten- 
tion. " If there really is a future scene of existence, 
and if the rewards promised to the righteous, and the 
punishments denounced against the wicked, are as 
great and as durable as they are represented to be, 
there is no sacrifice in this life which a wise man would 
not make to them* If they are worth any thing, they 
are worth every thing. Be, then^ not only almost, but 
altogether Christians. Let no enticing words of man's 
wisdom put 5^ou out of conceit with the divine truths 
of the Gospel, and make you halt between two opin- 
ions ; let no one favorite vice, no worldly pursuits, no 
vain amusements, drav/ you off from any part of your 
duty, and divide your obedience between God and Ba- 
al. If 3^ou have chosen the other world for your por- 
tion, cling not any longer fondly to this ; if you have 
set your hand to the plough, look not back to the vani- 
ties you have renounced. Be not irresolute, waver- 
ing, and indecisive ; be not governed by the opinion 
of the day, nor the temptation of the moment. Do 
not so divide yourselves between two masters, as to 
please neither the one nor the other ; do not manage 
so wretchedly as to lose at once what little this world 
has to give, and all the glorious rewards which the 
other holds up to your view. *^ChuseLye, in short, 
** this day, whom ye will serve." If the Lord be 

Ww 



354 SERMON XXVIL 

God, and not Baal, be resolved at once ; take a manly 
and a decided part ; fix your affections immoveably on 
heavenly things ; pursue, with unremitting attention^ 
your best and truest interest ; give up yourselves, body 
and soul, into the hands of your Maker ^ and persevere 
uniformly in his service to the end of your lives ; that 
having thus finished your course, and kept the faith to 
the last, you may receive "the prize of your high 
*' calling in Christ Jesus ; and when your flesh and 
" your heart shall fail, may find God to be the strengthi 
'* of your heart, and your portion for everJ> 



SERMON XXVIIF. 



Psalm xxii. 28. 

The kingdom is the Lord's, and he is the governor among the nations. 

npHE doctrine conveyed to us in these words is that 
iL of A ^ATio.^AL PROVIDENCE ; and it is a doc- 
trine no less consonant to reason than consolatory to 
the human mind. It must therefore afford us the high- 
est satisfaction, to find this truth confirmed by the sa- 
cred writers in the clearest and the strongest terms. 
The Scriptures are full of the most gracious promises 
to righteous nations, and of the most dreadful denuncia- 
tions against wicked and impenitent kingdoms ; and it 
is well known, that neither these promises nor these 
threatenings were vain. The history of the Jewish 
people, more especially, is scarce any thing else than 
the history of God's providential interposition to punish 
or reward them, according as they obeved or disobey, 
ed his laws. And although we should admit that on 
account of the peculiar circumstances of that people, 
and the unexampled form of their theoretic government, 
their case cannot be drawn into a parallel with that 
of other nations, yet there are not wanting some which 
may. Those four celebrated empires of antiquity 
which rose up one after another, and successively filled 
the world with astonishment and terror, were nothinp- 
more than mighty engines in the hand of God to exe^ 
cute his various dispensations of mercy or of justice on 
the Jewish nation, and other civil communities ; and 

* Preached before the House of Lords, January 30, irrS. 



356 SERMON XXVIII. 

to prepare the way gradually for the introduction of 
another kingdom of a very different nature, and su- 
perior to them alh Their rise and fall were predicted 
in the sacred writings lon^* before they existed*, and 
those extraordinary personages, Nebuchadnezzar, Cy^ 
rus, Alexander, Augustus, Vespasian, and Titus, were, 
though unknown to themselves, the agents of the 
Almighty, raised up at certain appointed times, and 
furnished with every requisite qualification to -' per- 
*' form all his pieasuref," and fulfil his views, *' 1 am 
^' the Lord that maketh all things; that stretcheth 
^* forth the heavens alone ; that spreadeth abroad the 
*' earth by myself; that frustrateth the tokens of the 
* My ars, and maketh diviners mad; that turneth wise 
** men backward, and maketh their knowledge foolish ; 
•' that confirmeth the word of his servant,^ and per- 
'' formeth the counsel of his messengers, I form the 
*' hghtand create darkness; I make peace and create 
*' evil : I THE Lord do all these thingsJ." 
Thus we see, that what is considered as the common vi- 
cissitude of human aifairs, peace and war, pestilence and 
flimine, political changes and national revolutions, the 
passionsof the wicked, the machinations of the crafty, 
the virtues of the good, the errors of the weak, the pru^ 
dcnce of the wise, the shining qualities of the great ; 
every thing, in short, that the world calls accident, 
chance and fortune, are all, in fact, under the control 
of an invisible and over-ruling hand ; which, without 
any violation of the laws of nature, or the freedom of 
human actions, renders them subservient to the gra- 
cious purposes of divine wisdom in the government of 
the v^/orld. 

In the instance above adduced of the four great mo- 
narchies, we see this sublime truth exemplified in the 
iTiOst striking manner. They form as it were, one 
vast map of providential administration, delineated on 
so large a scale, and marked with such legible charac- 
ters, that they cannot well escape our notice. But al^ 

* Daniel vit. and viii. f Isaiah xliv. 2S, 

X Isaiah x\iv. 24, 25, 2(3 ; and xlv. 7. 



SERMON XXVIII. 557 

though this is very properly hung up for the observa- 
tion of maiikincl in general, yet there are other ex- 
amples of a national Providence which to us may be 
more interesting, as coming more home to ourselves. 
We of this kingdom have been most remarkably favor- 
ed with the visible protection of Heaven ; and there are 
in our own history so many plain and unequivocal 
marks of a divine interference, that ifv/e do not ac- 
knowledge it, we are eidier the blindest or the most un- 
grateful people on earth. Let me more particularly 
call your attention to the following very singular cir- 
cumstances, in some of the greatest events that dignify 
the annals of this country. 

Our separation from the church of Rome was begun 
by the passions of a prince, who meant nothing less 
than that reformation of Religion which was the conse- 
quence of it. The total dispersion and overthrow of 
what was profanely called the invincible Armada, was 
effected almost entirely by winds and tempests. That 
dreadful popish conspiracy, which seemed guarded by 
impenetrable darkness and silence against all possibili- 
ty of detection, was at last casually discovered by a 
letter equally indiscreet and obscure. At a time when 
there appeared no hope of ever recovering our ancient 
form of government, it su Jdenly rose from the ruins in 
which the tragedy of this day had involved it ; under 
the auspices of a man who had helped to destroy it, and 
who seemed almost to the last moment undecided whe- 
ther he should restore or destroy it again. And to 
crown air, our deliverance in a subsequent reign from 
the attempts of a gloomy tyrant to enslave both body 
and soul, was brought about by a concurrence of the 
most surprising incidents co-operating, at that very 
critical moment on which the whole depended, with the 
noblest efforts of true patriotism. Let now the hardi- 
est sceptic consider only these few remarkable facts, 
selected from a multitude of others scarce less extraor- 
dinary, and then let him deny, if he can, the evident tra- 
ces they bear stamped upon them of some superi- 

OPv POW£R, 



5'5B SERMON XXVIII. 

It may seem, indeed, as if the very times to whicli 
the present solemnity carries back our thoughts, were 
a contradiction to the doctrine here advanced, were a 
strong and melancholy proof that God's providential 
care was then at least withdrawn, and "the light of his 
*' countenance turned away" from this island. The 
murder of a virtuous though misguided prince, and the 
total subversion of the constitution, may be thought ut- 
terly inconsistent with' the notion of a divine super- 
intendence. But it is not surely to be expected, that 
throughout the whole duration of a great empire, any 
more than throughout the whole life of an individual^ 
there is to be one uninterrupted course of prosperity 
and success. Admonitions and checks, corrections 
and punishments, may be, and undoubtedly are, in both 
cases sometimes useful, perhaps essentially necessary ; 
and the care and even kindness of Providence may be 
no less visible in these salutary severities, than in the 
distribution of its most valuable blessings. 

Both private and public afflictions have a natural 
tendency to awaken, to alarm, to instruct, to human- 
ize, to meliorate the heart of man ; and they may be 
ultimately attended with other very important and be- 
neficial consequences. This was eminently the case in 
that turbulent period we are now commemorating. 
The convulsions into which the nation was then thrown, 
seem to have been the efforts of a vigorous though at 
that time disordered constitution ; which shaking off 
in those violent agitations some of its most malignant 
humors, acquired in the end a degree of health and 
soundness unknown to it before. These however 
might, by a skilful management, have been much soon- 
er established. The lenient remedies of law and 

PARLIAMENTARY AUTHORITY, wllich V^CrC at first 

applied, had made so great a progress in subduing the 
maladies of the state, that there was all the encourage- 
ment in the world to persevere in that regular and pru- 
dent course. But most unfortunately for the nation, 
it was too hastily relinquished ; and in an evil hour re- 
course was had to that most dangerous and desperate 



SERMON XXVIIL 359 

of all experiments, which nothing but extreme neces- 
sity can justify, MILITARY FORCE. 

They who set out with the very best principles, and 
the purest intentions, were insensibly led by a few art- 
ful incendiaries into excesses of which at one time 
they would have thought themselves utterly incapable. 
In their haste to reform every thing, they unhappily 
forgot that the other two branches of the legislature, 
THE KING AND THE LORDS, had rights as sacred and 
as essential to the public welfare, as those of the com- 
mons ; and that it was no less injurious and danger- 
ous to violate the constitution, for the sake of ad- 
vancing the power of the people, than for the purpose 
of extending the prerogative of the crown. Heated 
with those visionary plans which they had formed of 
absolute perfection in church and state, they thought 
it allowable to promote such righteous ends by the 
most unrighteous means ; by trampling on all those 
sacred laws of truth, justice, equity, charity, and hu- 
manity, which were undoubtedly meant (however 
little we may regard that meaning) to govern our /?<?- 
Ihical 2LS wdl 2LS private conduct : and which can never 
be transgressed, not even in pursuit of liberty itself 
without the most pernicious effects. 

No wonder, then, that these effects followed in the 
present instance, and that the Almighty pursued such 
unchristian practices with the most exemplary ven- 
geance. It is, indeed, very remarkable, that every one 
of those parties which bore a share in this miserable 
contest, king, nobles, commons, puritans, and patriots, 
were disappointed of their aim, and found every thing 
fall out the very reverse of what they expected. Each 
in their turn became the victim of their own devices ;, 
and the new race, which sprung up from their dregs^ 
exhibited to the world a most singular but at the samej^ 
time most instructive spectacle. Instead of that unli- 
mited freedom, temporal and spiritual, which they con- 
ceived themselves commissioned by Heaven to esta- 
blish ; confusion and bloodshed, tyranny and anarchy^ 
every folly and every extravagance which enthusiasm 



MO SERMON XXVIII. 

could engender, followed each other in quick succes- 
sion. Ashamed and tired of such disgraceful and ca* 
pricious insults, the nation was at length roused, and 
with one voice recalled the exiled monarch to the 
throne* But as if it was meant by Providence that 
every part of this unexampled scene should hold forth 
some useful lesson to mankind, it appeared from the 
conclusion no less than from the whole progress of it, 
how completely all immoderate vehemence of temper 
and conduct defeats its own purposes, and by grasping 
at too much loses every thing. For, as one extreme 
naturally begets another, excessive rigor to the father 
produced excessive indulgence to the son ; and in one 
fond moment of joy was lost the fruit of all the prece- 
ding struggles against the exorbitant claims and en* 
croachments of the crown* 

But when, in the follov/ing reign^ a different conduct 
was observed, the event was also different, and Heaven 
gave its sanction to the glorious work* At that memo- 
rable period all the injustici? and oppression ^vas on the 
part of the sovereign, all the forbearance and modera- 
tion on the part of the subject. For although the in- 
vasions made both on our civil and religious rights, by 
James the Second, were far bolder and more alarming 
than those attempted by his unhappy father, yet they 
produced no hasty, no licentious excess among the 
people. Every legal, every constitutional mode of re^ 
dress was first tried, and when those failed of success, 
more vigorous and efficacious measures became neces- 
sary. Yet even these were conducted with the most 
consummate prudence and circumspection ; and the 
wisdom, the calmness, the firmness, the temper, the 
sobriety, with which our illustrious ancestors proceed- 
ed on that occasion, form a most striking contrast to 
II the rashness, the passion, the wild impetuosity, the fa- 
natic fury, with which Cromwell and his associates set 
themselves to tear up the abuses of government, and 
government itself along with them, by the roots. The 
great au thors of t h e revolution, ©n the contrary, 
disdaining all the usual artifices of faction to inflame 



SERMON XXVIIL 361 

and mislead the multitude, and leaving every one to 
his own natural sense and feeling of the injuries he 
sustained ; without calumny or falsehood, without in- 
vective or misrepresentation, without the horrors of a 
civil war, without a single battle, almost without the 
loss of a single life, effected every thing they wished. 
Because both the end they pursued, and the means they 
employed, were reasonable and just. Providence crown- 
ed their efforts with success, and gave them the glory 
of establrshing the rights of the people, not on the ru- 
ins of the constitution, but on the nice adjustment and 
exact counterpoise of all its several component parts. 

We have then the strongest reason to conclude, that 
there is a Power on high which watches over the fate 
of nations, and which has in a more especial manner, 
in a manner plainly distinguishable from the ordinary 
course of events, and the common effects of human 
policy and foresight, preserved this kingdom in the most 
critical and perilous circumstances*. Does not this 
then afford some ground to hope, that if we endeavor 
to render ourselves worthy of the divine protection, it 
will be once more extended to us ; and that by a 
speedy and effectual reformation of our hearts and lives, 
we may remove or lighten those heavy judgments 
which our iniquities have now most justly drawn dow^n 
upon us. This, I know, is holding a language which 
they who compliment themselves with the name of 
PHILOSOPHERS will treat with sovereign contempt. 
But let them enjoy their triumph ; and let them allovir 
us, who think Christianity the best philosophy, to con- 
sole ourselves, amidst the gloom that at present sur- 
rounds us, with those reviving hopes which the belief 

• t have often observed, (says an eloquent writer) that •« when the ful- 
•' ness and maturity of time is come that produces the greater convulsion* 
•* and changes in the world, it usually pleases God to make it appear, by th» 
«' 7rianner of them, that they are not the effects of human force or policy, 
*' hut of the divine justice and predestination. And though we see a man 
" striking as it xoere, the hour of that fulness of time, yet our reason muse 
" needs be convinced, that his hand is moved by some secret, and, to us 
•' who stand without, invisible direction.'* Cov}ley^s Discourse on the Govern- 
tnent of Oliver CronirvelL 

This observation is, I apprehend, strictly applicable to those inatansds of 
iNVjsjBLi DIRECTION which havc been here produced. 

X X 



362 SERMON XXVIII. 

of God's providential government presents to us*. If 
this be superstition, it is so delightful a superstition, 
that it would be inhuman to deprive us of it. But we 
know in whom we trust ; we know that this trust rests 
on a foundation which cannot be shaken. It rests, as 
we have seen, not only on the express declarations and 
promises of holy writ, but on the many remarkable in- 
stances of a supernatural agency which occur in the 
history of mankind, and above all in our own. In every 
one of the extraordinary national deliverances above- 
mentioned, the dangers that threatened this island were 
of a much greater magnitude, and more formidable as- 
pect, than those which now seem to alarm us. Why, 
then, may we not again indulge ourselves with the 
same expectations ? A series of past favoi's naturally 
begets a presumption of then' continuance ; and it must 
not be wholly imputed to the laudable partiality which 
every honest man entertains for his own country, if we 
give way to a persuasion, that God will still vouchsafe 
his accustomed goodness to this favored land. Yes, 
we wf// sooth ourselves with the belief, that a nation so 
distinguished as this has been with happier revolu- 
tions, and greater blessings, than any other ever expe-. 
rienced, will not be at this time deserted by its gracious 
Benefactor and Protector. It is here that civil liberty 
has fixed her throne ; it is here that Protestantism finds 
its fu mest support ; it is here that the divine principle 
of toleration is established ; it is here that a provision 
is made by government for the poor ; it is here that 
they are with a boundless munificence relieved both 
by private charity and public institutions ; it is here, 
in fine, that the laws are equal, wise and good; that 
they are administered by men of acknowledged ability, 
and unimpeached integrity ; and that through their 
hands the stream of justice flows with a purity un- 
known in any other age or nation. Nor have we only 
the happiness of enjoying these unspeakable advanta- 

* We may, I trust, on the same grounds, entertain even now the same 
reviving hopes. Indeed much of the reasoning made use o£ in this dis- 
eourse applies most remarkably to the present circumstances of this coun- 
try. 



SERMON XXVIII. 563 

ges ourselves ; we have had the glory (a glory supe- 
rior to all conquests, to all triumphs) of diffusing a 
large proportion of them over the remotest regions of 
the globe. Wherever our discoveries, our commerce 
or our arms have penetrated, they have in general car- 
ried the laws, the freedom, and the religion, of this 
country along with them. Whatever faults and errors 
we may be chargeable with in other respects, for these 
gifts at least, the most invaluable that one country can 
bestow upon another, it is not improbable that both the 
eastern and the \yestern world may one day acknowledge 
that they were originally indebted to this kingdom. Is 
it then a vain, is it a delusive imagination, that after 
having been made the chosen instruments of Provi- 
dence for such noble, such beneficial purposes, there 
is some degree of felicity still in reserve for us, and 
that the illustrious part ue have been appointed to act 
on the great theatre of the world is not yet accom- 
plished ; What may be in the councils of the 
HOST high; ivbat mighty changes he may be now 
meditating in the system of human affairs, he alone can 
tell*. But in the midst of this awful suspence, while 
the fate of empires hangs trembling on his resolves, of 
one thing at least we are absolutely certain ; that it is 
better to have him for our friend than our enemy. 
Which of the two he shall be, depends entirely upon 
ourselves. If by our infidelity, our impiety, our liber- 
tinism, our ill-timed gaiety and wanton profuseness in 
the very face of public distress, we audaciously insult 
his admonitions, and brave his utmost vengeance ; what 
velse can we expect but that every thing which ought 
naturally to be the means of our stability, will be con- 
verted into instruments of our destruction ? That im- 
mense dominion, of which we shall then be no longer 
worthy, will be gradually rent away from us ; and it 
may even become necessary for the welfare of man- 
kind, to cut off our communication with distant coun- 

* What mighty changes in the system of huinan affairs have since thijB 
jeriod (1778) actually taken place botji ia ATnerica and in Europe, the 
-reader need not be inforraed. ' 



364 SERMON XXVIII. 

tries, lest they be infected with the contagion of onr 
sins. But if, on the contrary, by reverencing the 
judgments of God, and returning to that allegiance 
which we owe him, we again put ourselves under his 
protection ; he may still, as he has often done, dispel 
the clouds that hang over us : or if, for wise reasons,^ 
he suffer them to gather and darken upon us, he may 
make even this in the final result, conduce to our real 
welfare. 

There is, in fact, no calamity, private or public^ 
which under his gracious direction, may not eventually 
prove a blessing. There are no losses, but that of 
his favor, which ought to sink us into despair. 
There is a spirit in freedom, there is an energy in vir- 
tue, there is a confidence in Religion, which will ena- 
ble those that possess them, and those only, to rise 
superiof to every disaster. It is not a boundless ex« 
tent of territory, nor even of commerce, that is essen° 
tial to public prosperity. They ^re necessary, indeed, 
to national greatness, but not to national felicity. The 
true wealth, the true security of a kingdom consists in. 
frugality, industry, temperance, fortitude, probity, pie= 
ty, unanimity. Great difficulties, more especially, call 
for great talents and great virtues. It is in times such 
as these that we look for those noble exainples of self- 
PENiAL and PUBLIC SPIRIT, which bespeak true 
greatness of mind, which have sometimes saved king- 
doms, and immortalized individuals. Let, then, all 
the wise and the good in every party and denomination 
of men among us (for they are in every one to be found) 
stand forth in the present exigency as one man, to ad- 
vise, direct, assist, and befriend their country ; and as 
the Roman triumvers gave up each his friend for the 
destruction of the state, let every one now give up hi^ 
favorite prejudices, systems, interest, resentments, and 
connections, for the preseriiation of it. Let us not, for 
God's sake, let us not waste that time in tearing an<3 
devouring one another, which ought to be employed 
in providing for the general welfare. Unjust suspi- 
cious, uncandid interpretations, mutual reproaches, and 



SERMON XXVIII. 565 

endless altercations, can answer no other purpose but 
to embitter our minds, and multiply the very evils we 
all wish to remove. From beginnings such as these 
arose the calamities we are now met to deplore ; and 
the conclusion was, not liberty, but tyranny in the ex- 
treme. Gan there possibly be a stronger motive for 
us to moderate our dissensions, and compose pur pas- 
sions, before they grow too big for us to manage and 
control ? On ihe same bottom are we all embarked, 
and if, in the midst of our angry contentions, the ves- 
sel perish, we must all perish, with it. It is therefore 
our common interest, as it is our common duty, to 
unite in guarding against so fatal an event. There 
can be no danger of it but from ourselves. Our worst, 
our most formidable enemies, are our own personal vi- 
ces and political distractions. Let harmony inspire our 
councils, and Religion sanctify our hearts, and we have 
nothing to fear. Peace abroad is undoubtedly a 
most desirable object. But there are two things still 
jnore so, peage with one another, and peac5 
WITH God. 



SERMON XXIX. 



Luke iv. 32. 

J[nd they ivere astonished at his doctrine : for his word was with 
flower. 

IT is evident from this, and many other similar pas- 
sages of the New Testament, that our blessed Lord's 
discourses made a very uncommon and wonderful im- 
pression on the minds of his hearers. We are told, 
in various places, " that the common people heard 
*' him gladly ; that they wondered at the gracious 
" words which proceeded out of his mouth, and de- 
*' Glared, with one voice, that never man spake like 
*' this man*." Expressions of this sort, which con- 
tinually occur in relation to our Saviour's preaching, 
we never find applied in Scripture to any other teacher 
of Religion; neither to the prophets who preceded, 
nor to the aposdes that followed him. And w^e may be 
sure, that the effects of his doctrine must have been very 
extraordinary indeed, when it could draw such strong 
language as this from the Evangelists, w^ho, in gene- 
ral, express themselves with much calmness and sim- 
plicity ; and frequently describe the most astonishing 
miracles, and deliver the sublimest doctrines, without 
any apparent emotion, or remarkable energy of dic- 
tion. 

What, then, could it be which gave such surpri- 
zing force to our Saviour's instructions, such power 

* Mark xii. 37. Luke iv. 22. John yii. 29. 



SERMON XXIX. 36^ 

to his words ? He employed none of those rhetorical 
artifices and contrivances, those bold figures and un^^ 
expected strokes of overbearing eloquence, which the 
most celebrated worldly orators have generally made 
use of, to inflame the passions and gain the admiration 
of the multitude. These, certainly, were not the in- 
struments employed by our Saviour to command atten- 
tion. The causes of these surprizing effects which 
his preaching produced, were of a very different na^ 
ture. Some of these I shall endeavor to enumerate 
and illustrate as concisely as I can. 

1. The first was, the infinite importance and dignity 
of the subjects he discoursed upon. He did not, like 
many ancient and many modern philosophers, consume^ 
his own time, and that of his hearers, with idle, fruit- 
less speculations, with ingenious essays, and elabo- 
rate disquisitions on matters of no real use or moment, 
with scholastic distinctions, and unintelligible refine- 
ments ; nor did he, like the Jewish rabbins, content 
himself with dealing out ceremonies and traditions, 
with discoursing on mint and cummin, and estimating 
the breadth of a phylactery ; but he drew off the atten- 
tion of his followers from these trivial, contemptible 
things, to the greatest and noblest objects that could 
engage the notice, or interest the heart of man. 

He taught, in the first place, the existence of one 
supreme Almighty Being, the creator, preserver and 
governor of the universe. To this great Being he 
taught men how to pray, to worship him in spirit and 
in trudi, in holiness and purity of life. He laid open 
all the depravity of human nature ; he pointed out the 
only effectual remedy for it ; belief in himself, the 
way, the truth, and the life ; repentance and amend- 
ment ; an entire and absolute renovation of heart, and 
unreserved submission to the will and the law of God. 

The morality he taught was the purest, the sound- 
est, the subiimest, the most rational, the most per- 
fect, that had ever before entered into the imagination ^^ 
or proceeded from the lips of man. And the uniform 
tendency of all his doctrines, and all his precepts, was 



S68 SERMON XXIX. 

to make the whole human race virtuous and happy ; ta 
compose them into resignation and content j to inspire 
them with sentiments of justice, equity, mildness, 
moderation, compassion, and affection towards each 
other ; and to fill them with sure hope and trust in God 
for pardon of their sins, on most equitable terms, and 
the assistance of his holy spirit to regulate their future 
conduct. 

And, finally, to give irresistible force to his com- 
mands, he added the most awful sanctions, the doc- 
trines of a future resurrection, a day of judgment and 
of retribution, a promise of eternal reward to the 
good, and a denunciation of the most tremendous pun- 
ishments to the wicked. 

2. Such was the general matter of his instructions j 
and, in the next place, his ;72a7/7z^r of conveying them 
was no less excellent, and no less conducive to their 
success. 

What, for instance, could be more noble, more af- 
fecting, than the very first opening of his divine com- 
mission ? " The spirit of the Lord is upon me, be- 
** cause he hath anointed me to preach the Gospel to 
** the poor ; he hath sent me to heal the broken- heart- 
** ed, to preach deliverance to the captives, and reco- 
•' vering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that 
" are bruised ; to preach the acceptable year of the 
" Lord*.'' 

These were the gracious declarations with which he 
began his ministry, and in the same spirit he continue 
cd it to the very last. Though he invited all men^ 
without distinctioii, high and low, rich and poor, to 
embrace the gracious offers of salvation ; yet he ad- 
dressed himself principally to the ignorant, the indi- 
gent, the publican, and the sinner. "He broke not 
'Vthe bruised reed, nor quenched the smoaking flaxf ;" 
that is, he bore not hard on any that were bowed down 
with a sense of their unworthiness, nor extinguished 
by discouragement the faintest spark of returning vir- 
tue ; but, on the contrary, invited to him those *' that 

* Luke iv. 18. t Matth. xii. 20. 



SERiMON XXIX. 369 

" were heavy laden with sin, that he might give them 
^' rest.'^ 

His discourses were perfectly adapted to these gra- 
cious purposes. They were mild, tender, encou- 
raging. They were such as the. most learned and best 
informed might listen to with benefit and delight, yet 
such as the weakest and most ignorant might easily 
comprehend* He did not deliver a regular, dry, me- 
thodical system of ethics, nor did he enter into all the 
little minute divisions and subdivisions of virtue. But 
he laid down in the first place, the two great leading 
fundamental principles of love to God, and love to 
mankind, and thence deduced, as occasions presented 
themselves, and incidents occurred, which gave pecu- 
liar force and energy to his instructions, all the princi- 
pal duties respecting God, our neighbor, and our- 
selves* Whenever he made use of the common di- 
dactic method, as in his discourse from the mount, 
the doctrines he taught, and the precepts he delivered, 
WTre short, sententious, solemn, important, full of wis- 
dom and of dignity, yet intelligible and clear. But sen- 
sible how much this formal mode of teaching was apt 
to weary the attention, and die away out of the me- 
mory, he added two others, much better calculated to 
ma,ke deep and lasting impressions on the mind. The 
first w^as, conveying his instructions under the cover 
of similitudes and parables, drawn from the most ob- 
vious appearances of nature, or the most familiar oc- 
currences of life. The other was the use of certain 
significant emblematic actions, such as that of washirig 
his disciples' feet, by which he expressed his meaning 
more clearly and emphatically than by any words he 
could have employed for that purpose. 

3. Another circumstance whiph gave force and ef- 
ficacy to our Saviour's preaching was, that he appeared 
to be perfectly impartial^ and to have no respect to 
persons. IJe reproved vice in every station, wherever 
he found it with the same freedom and boldness. He 
paid no court either to the multitude on the one hand, 
or to the great and wealthy on the other. Though he 

Yy 



370 SP:RM0N XXIX. 

ate and drank, and conversed widi publicans and sih- 
ners, yet it was not to encourage and indulge them m 
their vices, but to reprove and correct them ; it was 
because they were sick, and wanted a physician, and 
that physician he was. In the same manner, while he 
taught the people to render unto Csesar the things that 
were Ccesars, to honor those to whom honor was due, 
and to pay all proper respect and obedience to those 
who sat in Moses' seat, yet this did not prevent him 
from rebuking the Elders and the Rulers, the Scribes 
and the Pharisees, with the greatest plainness, and with 
the utmost severity, for their hypocrisy and insincerity, 
their rapacity and extortion, their zeal for trifles, and 
their neglect of the weightier matters of the law. — 
This intrepidity and impartiality in his instructions, 
and in the distribution of his censures and his admo- 
nitions, evidently shewed that he had no private ends 
to serve, that the salvation of men was his only object, 
and that he was not to be deterred from pursuing it by 
the fear of consequences. All which could not fail 
to impress his followers with the utmost respect, awe, 
and reverence, both for his person and his doctrines. 

4. Eveiy one that hopes to work any material 
change, any eifectnal reformation in the hearts of those 
whom he addresses, must endeavor to find out, as well 
as he is able, their real sentiments and habits of think- 
ing, their tempers and dispositions, their peculiar fail- 
ings and infirmities, their secret wickednesses,, and un- 
witnessed transgressions. 

There are a thousand artifices by which men arc 
able to conceal their corruption and depravity from the 
eyes of others, and sometimes, alas ! even from their 
own. And it has been affirmed by some very sagacious 
observers of human nature, that no one ever yet dis- 
covered the bottom of his heart, even to his most inti- 
mate and bosom friend. But it was impossible for 
any wickedness, hov\'ever secret, or however artfully 
disguised, to escape the all-seeing eye of the Son of 
God. He saw, at one glance, the inmost recesses of 
%he soul. He discovered every thought as it rose in 



SERMON XXJX. 371 

the mind. He detected every irregular desire before it 
xipened into action. Hence he was always enabled to 
adapt his discourses to the particular circumstances and 
situation of every individual that heard him, and to ap- 
ply such remedies, and give such directions, as the 
peculiar exigences of their case required. Hence, too, 
his answers to their questions and enquiries were fre-* 
quently accommodated more to what they thought, 
than what they said ; and we find them going away 
from him astonished, at perceiving that he was perfectly 
well acquainted with every thing that passed within 
Uieir breasts ; and filled with admiration of a teacher 
possessed of such extraordinary powers, to whom all 
hearts were open, and from whom no secrets were hid. 
Jt is evident what a command this must give him over 
the affections of his hearers, and what attention and 
obedience it must secure to all his precepts and ex- 
hortations^ 

5. The same effects must, in some degree, be pro- 
duced by the various proofs he gave of the most perfect 
wisdom in solving the difficulties that were proposed to 
him, and of the most consummate prudence and ad- 
dress, in escaping all the snares that were laid for him. 
Even when he was but twelve years of age, he was able 
to converse and to dispute with the most learned ex- 
pounders of the law, and all that heard him were as- 
tonished at his understanding and his answers. After- 
wards, during the whole course of his ministry, the 
Rulers, and Scribes, and Pharisees, that is, the men of 
the greatest learning and ability amongst the Jews were 
perpetually endeavoring to entangle him in his talk, to 
perplex and harass him with insidious questions, and to 
draw him into absurd conclusions, and hazardous situ- 
ations. But he constantly found means to disengage 
himself both from the dilemma and the danger ; to 
form his determinations with such exquisite sagacity 
and judgment, and sometimes to propose to them, in 
his turn, difficulties so much beyond their ingenuity to 
clear up, that they generally " marvelled, and left him, 
** and went their way. Not one amongst them was 



372 SERMON XXiX. 

" able to answer him ; neither durst any mati, from 
'' that day forth, ask him any more questions." 

6. It is evident to reason, and it is confirmed by in- 
variable experience, that the purest and the sublirii^st 
precepts, if not enforced by a correspondent example in 
the teacher, will avail but little with the generality of 
mankind. It is equally certain, that there scafce ever 
existed a public instructor, whose practice, however 
laudable in general, did not fall far belo\V the rules h^ 
prescribed to others, and to himself. 

Here our blessed Lord stood unrivalled and alone 5 
he, and he only, of all the sons of men, acted up in 
every the minutest instance to what he taught ; and ex- 
hibited, in his own person, a perfect model of ever/ 
virtue he inculcated. He commanded, for instance, 
his disciples *' to love God with all their heart, and 
*' soul, and rtiind, and strength*," and in conform it;^'' to 
this law, he himself manifested, through his whole 
conduct, the most ardent love for his heavenly Father, 
the most fervent zeal for his honor and glory, for the 
advancementof his Religion, and the establishment of 
his kingdom throughout the earth. His meat and 
drink, indeed, was to do die will of hirii that seilt him. 
He commanded them again " to love thtir neighbor 
*' as themselvesf;" and his own life was one continued 
exercise of love, kindness, and compassion to the 
whole human rac(^. He i-eqiijred them to b^ meek, 
humble, gende, and peaceable to all mfehj. And how 
did he teach diem this important lesson ? *' Learn of 
*' liie," says he, ' • foi- I am meek arid lowly, and yfe 
^' shall lind rest unto yoiir souls]|." He exacted of 
them ihe most unbleniished purity £tnd sanctity of man- 
ners ; ti seVerc dferharid ! but he had a right to itlak^ 
it; for he himself waS '' pure, holy, harmless, and iiri- 
- ' defiled : he did no sin, neither was guile found in his 
" mouth§." He enjoined them to *• dferiy themselves 
"and take up tlieir cross^." But it vi^as to follow hint 
who had denied himself alndost every comfort and con - 

♦Markxii. 30. + Matth. xix. 19. |TiLiii.2 

I Matt. xi. 29. § Heb. \n. 26. 1 Pet. ii. 22. t ^'a«- ^vi. H- 



SERMON XXIX, 575 

venience of life ; and for the joy that was set before 
him, " endured the cross, and despised the shame" of 
an ignominious deaths. He required them *' to love 
" their enemies, to bless those that cursed them, and 
*' pray for those that despitefully used and persecuted 
'* themf." A hard saying this, and of all others, per- 
haps, the most revolting to human nature. But how 
could they refuse to give even this last and most pain- 
ful proof of their obedience, who saw that their divine 
Master, when he was reviled, reviled not again ; but, 
in the very tnidst of his agony, prayed for his enemies 
andpersecutorsj. 

No wotider that every word from such a teacher as 
this should sink deep into the hearts of all who heard 
them, and engage their affections, as well as convince 
their understandings. 

7, and lasdy. To the influence of example, he added 
tlie authority of a divine teAcher. 

The best and wisest of the ancient philosophers 
could do nothing more than give good advice to their 
followers ; and we all know, from sad experience, what 
mere advice will do against strong passions, establish- 
ed habits, and inveterate corruptions. 

But our great Lawgiver, on the contrary, delivered 
all his doctrines, and all his precepts, in the name of 
God. He spoke in a tone of superiority and com- 
mand, which no one before him had the courage or the 
right to assutne. 

He called himself the Son of God ; and he con- 
stantly supported, in his words as well as in his actions, 
the dignity and the divinity of that high character. 
Not to mention all his astonishing miracles, he showed 
even in his discourses, that " all power in Heaven and 
" in earth was given unto him, and that he and his Fa- 
'' ther were one||." In the very beginning of his ser* 
mon on the mount, to the poor in spirit, to the merci- 
ful, to the pure in heart, to the peace-makers, and ma- 
ny other descriptions of men, he took upon him to 

* Heb. xii. 2. f Matt. v. 44. | IPet. ii. 23. Luke xxiii. 54. 
tl Matth. xxviii. 18. John x. 30. 

\ 



374 SERMON XXIX. 

promise the kingdom of Heaven*, When he was ex- 
posing the vain traditions of the elders, he opposed to 
their feeble reasonings, and miserable casuistry, his 
own authoritative edict. '^ But / say unto you, swear 
*' not at all ; /say unto you, resist not evil ; / say 
** unto you, love your enemicst." When the Phari- 
sees rebuked his disciples for plucking the ears of corn 
on the Sabbath, he silenced them with declaring, *' that 
" the Son of Man was Lord also of the SabbathJ." 
When he healed diseases, his language was, ^' I wull > 
*' be thou elean||." When he forgave sins, ^' be of 
*' good cheer, thy sins be forgiven thee. Thy faith 
*' hath made thee whole. Go in peace, and sin no 
** more§." And when he gives a description of the 
last day, he represents himself as an Almighty Sove- 
reign, sitting on the throne of his glory, with all the 
inhabitants of the earth standing before him, to whom 
he distributes everlasting rewards and everlasting pu- 
nishments, according to their deserts^. Well then, 
might they say of him, ** that his word was with 
^' power, and that he taught them as one having au* 
^' thority, and not as the Scribes**." 

These, then, were the principal causes which gave 
such force and success to our Saviour's instruction, 
and compelled even his enemies to acknowledge, that, 
** never man spake as he spake." The consequence 
*^ was that all men sought him," and all who heard him, 
and were not blinded by their prejudices, '' forsook their 
" sins, and followed himf f." It is evidently our duty 
to do the sam€ : for the same causes, w^hich gave such 
efficacy to our Saviour's preaching, do in a great degree 
still subsist in the Gospel, and ought to produce the 
same effects. In one respect, indeed, w^e fall short of 
those who heard him. He is not personally present 
with us, nor has he " taught in our streets." Here it 
must be owned the first disciples had some advantage 
over us. They who had the happiness to see and to 

* Matt. V. 3. 12. t Matth.v.34, 39, 44. 

1 Mark ii. 28. [1 Matth. viii. 3. 

5 Matth. ix. 2. Mark v. 34, % Matth. xxv. ol. 

** Matth. vii. 29. ft Lukeiv. 42. Mark i. IJ?. 



SERMON XXIX. 575 

Rear him, whose senses were charmed, whose hearts 
were subdued by the venerable mildness of his looky 
the gracious majesty of his gestures, the awfully pleas- 
ing sound of his voice, to whom all he had said and 
done, with the very manner of his saying and doing it, 
was occurring every moment, and continually present 
in reality or in imagination ; these, undoubtedly, must 
be moved and affected to a degree of which we can hard- 
ly form any just conception. Yet still his words carry 
a divine power along with them, sufficient to convince 
every understanding, and to subdue every heart that is- 
not hardened against conviction. We have still before 
our eyes, in the histories of the Evangelists, the sub- 
lime and heavenly doctrines which he delivered, the pa- 
rables he uttered, the significant actions he made use 
of, the instructions and the reproofs he gave to sinners 
of every denomination, the triumphs he obtained over 
the most artful and insidious of his enemies, the unri- 
valled purity and perfection of his example, the divine 
authority and dignity with which he spoke, the awful 
punishments he denounced against those who rejected, 
and the eternal rewards he promised to those who re- 
ceived his words* These things still remain, and must 
for ever remain ; must for ever give irresistible force 
and energy to every word that is recorded as proceed- 
ing from the mouth of Christ, and must render it 
'' quick and powerful, and sharper than a two-edged 
*' sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul 
" and spirit^." If eloquence, such as this, does not 
make a deep, and lasting, and vital impression upon 
our souls ; if we do not find it to be, indeed, the pow- 
er of God unto salvation, we shall be left without ex« 
cuse. Let us then, in the language of our church, 
most earnestly beseech Almighty God, that those sa- 
cred words which we have now, or at any other time, 
heard with our outward ears, may, through his grace 
be so grafted inwardly in our hearts, that they may 
bring forth in us the fruit of good living, to the honor 
and praise of his name, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 

* Heb. w. 12. 



SERMON XXX*. 



LtJi^E vii. 22, 

^/len Sesits answering, said unto them, go your ivay, and tell John 
tohat things ye have seen and heard ; how that the blind see, 
the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the 
dead are raised, to the poor the gospel is preached. 

YOU will immediately recollect the occasion on 
which these words were spoken. They make a 
part of the answer which our Saviour gave to the two 
disciples whom John the Baptist sent to him, to ask 
whether he was the Great Deliverer that was to come, 
or they were to look for another. The whole passage 
is a remarkable one, and affords ample matter for ob- 
servation ; but the particular circumstance to which I 
mean to draw your attention at present, is the last 
clause of the text, in which we are told, that '* to the 
" poor the Gospel is preached." 

That our Lord should appeal to the miracles which 
he had v»Tought before the eyes of the two disciples, as 
an incontestible proof that he was the Messiah, will 
be thought very natural and proper ; but that he should 
immediately subjoin to this, as an additional proof; 
and a proof on which he seems to lay as much stress as 
on the ot^er, that " to the poor the Gospel was preach- 
*' ed," may appear, at the first view, a little extraor* 
dinary. We shall, however, soon be satisfied that in 

'•Preached at the Yearly Meeting of the Charitv Schools, in the Cathe- 
dral Church of St. Paul, May 2, 1782. 



SERMON XXX. 377 

Ihis, as well as in every other instance, our divine 
Master acted with consummate wisdom. He was 
speaking to Jews. His object was to convince them, 
that he was the Messiah. The obvious way of do- 
ing this was to shew, that he corresponded to the de- 
scription which their own prophets gave of that great 
personage. Now they speak of him as one, who 
should not only give eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, 
feet to the lame, and speech to the dumb, but should 
also *' preach good tidings to the meek and the poor-^." 
These were two distinct and separate marks by which 
he was to be known, and it was therefore as proper and 
necessary for our Saviour to refer to the one as to the 
other. Whoever pretended to be the Me s s i a h , must 
unite in himself these two great discriminating pecu- 
liarities, which, taken together, form one of the most 
illustrious and beneficent characters that can be ima- 
gined ; a character distinguished by the communica- 
tion of the greatest of all earthly blessings to two de- 
scriptions of men, who stood most in need of assist- 
ance, the diseased^ and the poor. To the former, the 
promised Saviour of the world was to give health ; to 
the latter, spiritual instruction. In this manner was 
the great Redeemer marked out by the prophets, and 
this glorious distinction did Christ display and support 
in his own person throughout the whole course of his 
ministry. 

That he was infinitely superior to every other teach- 
er of religion in the number, and the benevolent nature 
of his miracles, is well known ; and that he was no 
less distinguished by the circumstance of '' preaching 
" to the poor ;" that there was no one either before or 
after him, who made it his peculiar business to instruct 
them, and paid such constant and condescending at- 
tention to them as he did, is equally certain. The an- 
cient prophets were usually sent to kings and princes, 
to the rich and the great, and many of their prophecies 
were couched in sublime figurative language, beyond 
the comprehension of the vulgar. There were', in- 

* Isaiah xxi?;. 18, 19. xxxv. 5, 6. Ixi. 1. 

Zz 



378 SERMON XXX. 

deed, other parts of the Jewish scriptures sufficeintlj' 
plain and intelligible, and adapted to all capacities ; but 
even these the rabbies and the scribes, the great ex- 
pounders of the law among the Jews, contrived to per- 
plex and darken, and render almost useless by their 
vain traditions, their absurd glosses, and childish in- 
terpretations. So far w^ere they from showing any par- 
ticular regard or tenderness to the common people,- 
that they held them in the utmost contempt ; they con- 
sidered them as accursed^, because they knew not that 
law, which they themselves took care to render impen- 
etrably obscure to them. '' They took away the key 
" of knowledge ; they entered not in themselves, and 
*' those that were entering in they hinderedf ." It was 
even a proverbial saying among them, '' that the Spirit 
*' of God did not rest but upon a rich manj." So 
different were the maxims of the great Jewish teach- 
ers from the sentiments and conduct of that heavenly 
Instructor, who openly declared, and gloried in the 
declaration, that he came " to preach the Gospel to the 
'' poor|(.» ' 

Nor did the lower ranks of mankind meet with better 
treatment in the heathen world. There were among- 
the ancient Pagans, at different periods, and in differ- 
ent countries, many excellent moral writers of fine 
talents and profound knowledge ; but their composi- 
tions w^ere calculated not for the illiterate and the indi- 
gent, but for men of ability and erudition like them- 
selves. They thought the poor below their notice or 
regard j they could not stoop so low as to accommo- 
date themselves to the understanding of the vulgar. 
Their ambition, even in their ethical treatises, was to 
please the learned few. To these the Dialogues of 

* John vii. 48, 49. t Luke xi. 52. % Grotius on Matth. xi. 5. 

jl It may be alleged, that by the poor, to whom our Lord preached tht 
Gospel, the sacred writers meant not the poor in circimistances, but the poor 
in spirit. The truth is, they mieant both ; by our Saviour's conduct both 
senses were equally verified ; and these two sorts of po'verty are so frequently 
found united, that it is scarce necessary, at least in the present instance, to 
distinguish between them. For more complete satisfaction on this and 
some other points (of which but a very imperfect view is given here) see 
Bishop Kurd's admirable sermon on Matth, v. 3. s. 8. 



SERMON XXX. 57P 

Plato, the Ethics of Aristotle, the Offices of Cicero, 
the Morals of Seneca and of Plutarch, might afford 
both entertainment and information ; but had they been 
read to a Grecian or a Roman peasant, he would not, I 
conceive, have found himself either much enlightened 
or much improved by them. How should he get wis- 
dom from such sources *' that holdeth the plough, and 
*' that glorieth in the goad ; that driveth oxen, and is 
** occupied in their labors ; that giveth his mind to 
** make furrows, and is diligent to give the kine fod- 
*' der*." Very different occupations these from the 
studies of the philosopher or the metaphysician, and 
not very well calculated to pi-epare the mind for the lec- 
tures of the academy, the lyceum, or the portico. 

The truth is, there was not a single book of mo- 
rality at that time written solely or principally for the 
use of the ignorant and the poor ; nor had they their 
duty explained to them in any other mode of instruc- 
tion adapted to their capacities. They had no lessons 
of conduct given them so plain, so familiar, so forcible, 
so authoritative, as those which are now regularly dis- 
pensed to every Christian congregation; nothing that 
made ihe smallest approach to our Saviour's divine 
discourses, (especially that from the Mount) to the ten 
commandments, to the other moral parts of the Old 
and New Testament, or to the practical instructions 
and exhortations given weekly to the people by the 
ministers of the Gospel. They w^ere left to form a 
system of morality for themselves as well as they could ; 
in which they were so far from being assisted by their 
national Religion, that both the mode and the objects 
of their worship, were of themselves sufficient to cor- 
rupt their hearts, and to counteract any right opinions 
or virtuous inclinations that might casually spring up 
in their minds. 

In this situation did our blessed Lord find the inferi- 
or class of mankind when he entered upon his minis- 
try. He found them without guide, instructor, coun- 
sellor, or friend. He saw them (to use the affecting 

* Eccles, xxxviii. 25 y 26. 



380 SERMON XXX. 

language of Scripture) ** fainting and scattered abroad 
** as sheep having no shepherd, and he had compassion 
*' upon them*." He took them instantly under his 
protection, he shared with them the miseries of their 
condition. He assumed the form of a servant, submit- 
ted to all the hardships of that situation, and frequently 
** had not even where to lay his head." Although he 
did not reject the wealthy and the great, but, on the 
contrary, received them with the utmost kindness,^ 
whenever they showed any marks of a right and teacha- 
ble disposition, yet " not many noble, not many mighty, 
^' were at first calledf." It was from among fisher- 
men and mechanics that he chose his companions and 
apostles. It was to the poor he chiefly addressed his 
discourses* With these he principally lived and con- 
versed ; and to their understandings was the greater 
part of his parables, his allusions, his reasonings, his 
ptecepts, and his exhortations, most kindly accommo- 
dated . 

Thus did our heavenly Instructor most exactly fulfil 
the predictions of the prophets and his own declarations 
that he would evangelize to the poor. The conse- 
quence was what might naturally be expected from a 
measure as full of wisdom as it was of humanity, al- 
though totally opposite to the usual practice of moral 
teachers. In a short space of time that Gospel, which 
was at first preached more particularly to the poor, 
was embraced also by the rich ; and became, in a {tw 
centuries, the established Religion of the most powerful 
and extensive empire in the world, as it now is of all 
the most civilized and most enlightened kingdoms of 
the earth. Whereas the renowned sages of antiquity, 
by pursuing a contrary course, by making it their only 
object to please, amuse, and inform the learned and the 
great, w^ere never able, with all their wisdom and elo- 
quence to enlighten or reform a single province, oi^ 
even a single city of any note or magnitude J. 

* Matth. ix. .36. f 1 Cor. i. 26. 

}: Hence it is obvious to remark, how very unfortunately those writer* 
against Christianity have employed their time and labor, who have taken 
30 much pains to prove, that among the first converts to that Religion, ther'i 



SERMON XXX. 381 

We have here then, the utmost encouragement to 
tread in the steps of our divine Lawgiver, and to imi- 
tate, as far as we are able, that method of propagating 
his Rehgion which he adopted, and which was attend- 
ed with such signal success. Although it is un- 
doubtedly our duty ''to preach the Gospel to every 
-' creature^," to press it on all ranks of people, high 
and low, rich and poor ; yet the example of our Lord 
plainly calls upon us to show a peculiar attention to 
those whom Providence has placed in the humble con- 
ditions of life. The reasons for this are obvious : they 
are the same which probably influenced our Saviour's 
conduct in this respect, and they still subsist in their 
full fot'ce. The poor have in general much fewer op- 
portunities of learning their duty themselves than the 
wealthy and the great : their education seldom quali- 
fies them, and their constant cares and labors leave 
them but little leisure, for acquiring sufficient religious 
knowledge without assistance. Their spiritual as well 
as temporal necessities are but too often overlooked, 
and disregarded by their superiors, and yet they form by 
far the largest and most necessary part of the communis 
ty. Add to all this, that they are commonly much freer 
from prejudice, much less wedded to systems and 
opinions, more open to conviction, more anxious to 
obtain information, and more ready to embrace truth, 
than the higher ranks of men. These circumstances 
evidently point them out as objects highly worthy of 
our utmost care and diligence, in furnishing their minds 
with those sacred truths, those rules of moral and re- 
ligious conduct, which are necessary to, render them 
'' wise unto salvation." 

were but few in proportion of any considerable rank or fortune. This is a 
charge which the first preackers of the Gospel were so far from wishing to 
deny or dissemble, that they openly avowed and gloried in itf. Their suc- 
cessors have as little reason to be afraid, or ashamed of acknowledging the 
fact as they had> They j ustly consider it as one proof, among many others of 
that dii>ine wisdoonwhXch superintended and conducted the progress of Chris- 
tianity in a way so different fronn what ivorldly •misdom would have dic- 
tated ; beginning with the cottage and ending with the imperial throne. 
False religion has generally reversed this order, and has succeeded ac- 
cordingly. 

1 1 Cor. i. 26. * Mark xvi. 15. 



582 SERMON XXX. 

With this view it was, that The Society for Promo- 
iing Christian Knonvledge was first instituted. It 
breathes the true spirit of Christianity, and follows, at 
a humble distance, the example of its divine Author, 
by diffusing the light of the Gospel more especially 
among the foor. This is its peculiar province and 
employment ; and there are two ways in which it car- 
ries this benevolent purpose into execution. 

The first is, by encouraging the erection of charity, 
schools in every part of the kingdom, and by supply- 
ing them afterwards with proper religious instructions 
and wholsome rules for their direction and good go- 
vernment. The fruit of these its pious labors and ex- 
hortations in this city, and its neighborhood, you have 
now before your eyes. You here see near five thou- 
sand children collected together from the charity schools 
in and about London and Westminster. A spectacle 
this, which is not perhaps, to be paralleled in any other 
country in the world ; which it is impossible for any 
man of the least sensibility to contemplate without emo- 
tions of tenderness and delight ; which we may ven- 
ture to say, that even our Lord himself (who always 
showed a remarkable affection for children) would have 
looked on with complacency ; and which speaks more 
forcibly in favor of this branch of the Society's pater- 
nal care and attention, than any arguments for it tliat 
words could convey to you. ^ I shall therefore, only 
observe on this head, that large as the number is of the 
charity chikken now present in this place, it bears but 
a small proportion to the whole number in the schools 
of Great Britain and Ireland, which exceeds forty thou- 
sand. And when you consider that this Society was 
the original promoter, and has been the constant patron 
and protector of these schools, which have subsisted 

* The Trustees of the charity-schools obtained permission this year, Jbr 
the first thne, to range the children (amtoiinting to near five thousand) in a 
kind of temporary amphitheatre under the dome of St. Paul's where the ser- 
vice was performed, and the sermon preached, the congregation occupying 
the area. The effect of so large a number of children, disposed in that form, 
and uniting with one voice in the responses and in the psalm-singing, was 
wonderfully pleasing^ and affecting. This practice has since been continued 
annually. 



SERMON XXX. 385 

now for near a century ; that the children educated in 
them are taken from the most indigent and helpless 
class of people ; that, consequently, without these 
schools, they would probably have had no education at 
all ; and that nothing is so likely to preserve them from 
idleness, beggary, profligacy and misery, as impressing^ 
early and strongly on their unoccupied and uncorrupt- 
ed minds sound principles of piety, industry, honesty^ 
and sobriety ; 3'ou will be sensible that the Society 
has adopted a plan no less beneficial to the public, than 
comformable to the sentiments of the great Author of 
our Religion, in recommending charity-schools as one 
very effectual method of '' preaching the Gospel to the 
*' poor." 

But the Society goes still further than this. It does 
not confine its cares merely to the childhood OiXht poor ; 
it follows them, with unremitted kindness, through 
every subsequent period of their lives. It is the guard 
of their youth, the companion of their manhood, the 
comfort of their old age. The principal part of its 
employment is to provide, at a very considerable ex- 
pense, and to disperse among the lower people of all 
ages and occupations, a very large mmiber of Bibles, 
Common Prayer-books, and small tracts on a variety 
of religious subjects, composed purposely for their use 
by men of eminent piety and ability, adapted to their 
capacities, and accommodated to ail their various spirit- 
ual wants. In these are explained to them, in the clear- 
est and most familiar terms, the first grounds and ru- 
diments of their faith, the main evidences and most 
essential doctrines of Christianity, the several duties 
they owe to God, their neighbor, and themselves, and 
the nature and benefits of the two Christian sacraments. 
By these, also, they are assisted in the service of the 
church, in their private devotions, in reading, under- 
standing, and applying the H0I3- Scriptures -, are sup- 
ported under afflictions, are guarded against temptation, 
and fortified more especially against those vices to 
which the poor are most subject, and furnished with 



384 SERMON XXX. 

proper cautions and arguments, to preserve them frOfti 
the artifices of popery, and the delusions of enthusiasm^ 

This is a short sketch of the several objects to which 
the governing members of our Society have directed 
their attention^ and the provision they have made for 
the instruction of the ignorant and the poor. Of the 
little treatises here alluded to, some might undoubtedly 
be much improved, and some, perhaps, might be spa- 
red. But many of them are excellent, the greatest part 
extremely useful, and calculated to do essential service 
to that rank of men among whom they are distributed. 
Nor is the benevolence of our Society restrained within 
the limits of this island .only. Its principal object is, 
indeed, as it certainly ought to be, the instruction of 
our own poor ; but it has occasionaliy extended its kind 
assistance to other countries, both neighboring and re« 
mote. It has established schopls and missions in vari-^ 
ous parts of the East Indies, for the conversion and in- 
struction of the Heathens ; and has dispersed among 
them many religious tracts in the Malabar language. 
It has carried its regard to the Greek church in Pales^ 
tine, Syria, Mesopotamia, Arabia, and Egypt. For 
this purpose it has printed the New Testament and 
Psalter in Arabic, and has already sent a large number 
of both, with some other tracts, into Persia and India. 
It has published three several editions of the Bible in 
the Welsh language, and distributed them through eve- 
ry part of Wales, to the amount of fifty thousand copies. 
It has made provision for the education of youth, and the 
due celebration of divine worship, in the Scilly islands, 
where there was the utmost need of both ; and it has 
likewise printed and dispersed over the Isle of Man- 
many thousand copies of the Old and New Testament, 
of the Common Prayer, and other religious books, in 
the vulgar language of that island. 

By this constant attention of the managers of the So- 
ciety to the spiritual wants of the poor in many differ- 
ent parts of the world, as wtII as at home, the number 
of religious tracts and books which they have distribu- 
ted, from their first institution to this dav, is so im- 



SERMON XXX. 585 

mensely great, as almost to exceed belief*. And al- 
though, in some instances, the success of their endea- 
vors has not fully answered their expectations, yet there 
can be no doubt but that upon the whole their labors 
have done infinite service to the cause of Religion. In- 
deed, all the clergy who are members of the Society, 
and have made a constant and discreet use of their 
tracts, can bear, and many of them haiie borne, ample 
testimony to the advantages resulting f^om them. Next 
to the stated offices of divine worship, and the regular 
instructions from the pulpit, it is evident, that nothing 
can contribute more to excite and keep alive a due 
sense of Religion in the minds of the common people, 
than supplying them constantly with a variety of well- 
composed and well-chosen religious treatises, each of 
them judiciously adapted to their respective necessi- 
ties. It supplies, in some degree the want of that most 
useful branch of ministerial duty which has, I fear, of 
late years, grown but too much into disuse, personal 
conference with our parishioners ; for which, unless we 
have some such substitute as this, we shall find, proba- 
bly, that our public instructions will produce much less 
effect than they naturally ought. 

There is another argument for the distribution of 
small religious tracts among the common people, which 
has, I think, considerable weight. It appears, that this 
is the very mode made use of by the adversaries of our 
Religion, in order to undermine and destroy it. They 
consider small tracts of infidelity, as the best and most 
effectual method of disseminating irreligion among 
their readers and admirers ; and accordingly, have em- 
ployed all their talents in composing, and all their in- 
dustry in dispersing them over the worldf. 

* Even within the last fifty years, the number of books and tracts distri- 
buted by them has amounted to no less than 2,834,371. 

f It is certain, that M. Voltaire, in particular, has written innumerable 
little pieces against Revelation ; that he prided liimself greatly in having 
found out this method of enUghtening the nuorld : and that he was highly ap- 
plauded by Mr. D'Alembert and others for the wisdom and prudence of his 
conduct ill tliis rsspect. 

> Aaa 



m6 SERMON XXX. 

Let us then endeavor to foil our enemies at tfielr 
own weapons, which will surely prove more powerful,, 
and more successful, in the hands of truth, than in 
those of error ; and let us with that view% give all pos- 
sible encouragement to a Society, which is instituted 
for the very purpose of furnishing us widi a constant 
supply of the best helps towards counteracting the per- 
nicious designs of those who "set themselves against 
" us ;" who make use of every artifice to deprive us^ 
of all Religion, or to introduce a corrupt one. 

Inconsiderable and trivial as the little treatises dis* 
persed by the Society may seem, yet it is by the re- 
peated efforts of such small instruments as these, that^ 
the greatest effects are often produced. Their num- 
bers, their plainness, and their cheapness, will give 
them a force and efficacy ,. and extent of circula- 
tion, which much more voluminous and more labored- 
compositions may not be able to acquire ; just as we 
see tl^t the lowest and humblest, and most numerous- 
bodies of men, not the opulent and splendid few, are 
those that constitute the real strength and wealth of the 
community. 

It has been frequently asserted, that it is philosophy 3. 
modern philosophy, which has enlightened and im- 
proved mankind. But whom has it enlightened and 
improved ? A small knot, perhaps, of wits and philo- 
sophers, and learned men y but how have fbe multitude, 
the bulk of the people, those who really constitute the 
world, been enlightened and improved ? Do ibey read 
^e works of Bolingbroke, of D'Alembert,< of Hume,- 
or of Raynal ? Thanks be to God those elaborate and 
bulky compositions are equally beyond their under- 
standings to comprehend, their leisure to peruse, and 
their ability to purchase. And even the smaller pieces 
above-mentioned of Voltaire and others, are not cal- 
culated for the lowest classes of mankind, but for men' 
of some education and some talents* And their ob^ 
ject is not to inform, but to perplex and mislead ; not 
to convince by argument, but to entertain with strokes 
e£ wit and buffoonery. Most fortunately for mankind,^ 



SERiMON XXX. 387 

tlie mischief of such writings is confined (compara- 
tively speaking) to a very narrow circle, which their 
admirers, however, are pleased to dignify with the 
name of the naorld. The vulgar, the vile populace, 
^o far are those great philosophers from desiring to ii t 
struct and reform, that they think them utterly unwor- 
thy of a reasonable religion. This the most eminent of 
their fraternity has declared in express terms*. On 
the other hand, the Author of our Religion declares, 
that he came *' to preach the Gospel to the poor." — 
Here, then, you see opposed to each other the spirit of 
Christianity and the spirit of Philosophy. Judge 
je for yourselves, which is most worthy of God and be- 
neficial to man, and make your choice accordingly. If 
you take Philosophy for your guide, you will despise 
the humble employment of diffusing religious know- 
ledge among the common people ; but if you chuse 
Christ for your master, you will give a proof o£ it 
this day, by patronizing a Society that forms itself on 
his model, and professes to carry on the great work of 
reformation which He begun, in the very way which 
he pointecPout, " by preaching the Gospel to the poor. '^ 

* M. Voltaire, speaking of certain superstitious sects in China, has these 
vexY remarkable words : " Ces sectes sont tolerees a la Chine pour /' usage 
-" du Vulgaire, comme des alimens grossiers faits pour le nourrir ; tandis 
*' que les magistrals and les lettres, separes en tout du peuple, se nourissent 
** d'une substance plus pure. Ilsefnble en effect que la populace ne -yneiite pas 
'« mve r^lt^ion riii^onnablj^J' £5sai s^ur I'Histoire Cenerale, tcm. i. p. 22, 34. 



SERMON XXXI 



1 Cor. ix. 25. 

Every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things * 
noiv they do it to obtain a corruptible crown^ but ive an incor- 
ruptible. 

THE design of this passage is plainly to recommend 
the great Christian duty of being " temperate in 
all things;" that is, of obtaining an entire command 
over our passions ; or, as it is expressed a few verses 
after, of " keeping under our bodies, and bringing 
*' them into subjection." This self-government is in- 
dr§pensably necessary, both to the real enjoyment of the 
present life, and to the possession of everlasting hap- 
piness in the next. But then, like every thing else that 
is valuable, it is as diiiicultto.acquire, as it is useful and 
^excellent ; and it stands in need of the most power- 
ful arguments to recommend and enforce it. One of 
the strongest is here urged by St. Paul. To raise the 
courage and invigorate the resolution of the Corinthi- 
ans, to whom the Epistle is addressed, and of all others 
engaged in the same state of warfare with their corrupt 
inclinations, he reminds them of the immortal prize 
they are contending for, that crown of glory which is 
to recompence their virtuous conflict. And to give 
this still greater weight, he compares their rewards with 
those proposed to the competitors in the well-known 
games or sports which were celebrated near Corinth. 
In these, all that was contended for, was nothing more 
than " a corruptible crown," a wreath composed of 



SERMON XXXI. ^ 589 

perishable leaves : whereas, the prize of the Christian 
is an incorruptible one, a crown of glory thatfluleth not 
away, an eternity of real and substantial happiness in 
Heaven. And yet, poor and contemptible as the re- 
ward was in those games, they who strove for the mas- 
tery in them, were temperate in all things, were con- 
tent to exercise the strictest discipline and abstemious- 
ness, to abridge themselves both in the quantity and 
the quality of their diet, to renounce every pleasure 
and every indulgence that tended to weaken the body, 
and voluntarily to undergo many hardships in order to 
prepare themselves for the contest, and " to run so that 
'' they might obtain." How is it possible, then, after 
this, for the Christian to complain of the difficulties he 
has to encounter in this his state of probation, and 
when celestial rewards are held up to his view, to shrink 
from the severities through which he must arrive at 
them ? If he has any honest ambition in his nature, 
will he not emulate the ardor and activity of these Gre- 
cian combatants ? Will he not cheerfully go through 
a similar course of preparatory discipline ? Will he not 
impose upon himself a little moderation in his plea- 
sures, a little self-government and self-denial ? Will he 
not contentedly give up a few trivial indulgences, and 
transient gratifications, in order to secure a prize infi- 
nitely more glorious than theirs ; a crown incorruptible, 
felicity eternal, commensurate to the existence, and 
suited to the capacity of an immortal soul ? 

To this irresistible strength of argument St. Paul 
subjoins, as an additional motive, his own example. 
*' I therefore," says he, ** so run, not as uncertainly," 
not heedlessly and ignorantly, but with a perfect know- 
ledge of the course I am to pursue, the rules I am to 
observe, the prize I am to aim at, and the conditions 
on which it is to be attained. I do not act at random, 
but upon sure grounds. My views are steadily fixed 
on the grand point, and I press forwards in the way 
marked out with unwearied vigor and perseverance. 
*' So fight I, not as one that beateth the air." In this 
Christian combat I do not mis- spend my activity , and 



390 SERMON XXXr. 

exert my powers to no purpose ; I do not fight vvitli 
my own shadow, or with an imaginary antagonist*^ 
wasting my strength on the empty air ; but I strive for 
the mastery in good earnest ; I consider myself as ha- 
ving real enemies to combat, the world, the flesh, and 
the devil ; I know that my life, my salvation, my all, 
is at staJte ; and therefore, in imitation of the competi- 
tors in the Isthmian game, I exercise a strict govern- 
ment over myself; I subdue my rebellious passions, 
by continual acts of self-denial > " I keep under my bo- 
*' dy, and bring it into subjection," lest that by any 
means, when I have preached to others, I myself should 
foe a castaway. 

Such is the reasoning of this eloquent apostle at 
large ; and it behoves us all to pay due attention to it$ 
for, though in one circumstance we do not all resemble 
him, are not ^11 appointed to preach to others ; yet are 
we all, hke him, engaged in the Christian conflict with 
passion and temptation ; and must, like him, either 
come off victorious in it, and gain the prize, or be 
shamefully subdued, and lose our own souls. 

Ever since the unhappy fall of our first parents, and 
the confusion introduced by it into our moral frame, 
the passions have acquired so much strength and bold- 
ness, that they aspire to nothing less than an absolute 
sovereignty over the soul ; and we are reduced to the 
necessity of either governing them, or being governed 
by them. This is literally the choice proposed to ug 
at our first entrance- Into life ; and it concerns us to 
weigh and consider it well ; for we can never de- 
cide on a question of more importance. It is thi^ 
chiefly that must determine us to virtue and happi- 
ness, or to vice and misery. For nothing can be 
more clear, than that far the greater part of the 
evils we suffer ourselves, and of those we bring upon 
others, arise from the dominion of our passions. 
** Erom whence come wars and fightings among you I 
*' Come they not hence, even of your lusts, which 
" war in your members ?" From whence come mur*. 
ders, robberies, oppression, and fraud ? Whence oomi 

* See the commentators. 



SERMON XXXr. 59i 

fereaclies of friendship and hospitality, violations of the 
marriage-bed, ruin, infamy, and remorse to unguarded 
innocence, confusion and distress to whole families, the 
destruction of our own health and repose, the dissipa- 
tion of our fortunes, and the consequent wretchedness 
of all that look up to us for support I Do not allthese^ 
and an infinite number of other calamities,^ spring solely 
from the brutal violence of headstrong and unruly de- 
sires, bursting forth like a torrent upon n"iankind, throw- 
ing down every obstacle, and breaking through every 
the most sacred fence that opposes itself ta their im- 
petuous course ? 

Such are the mischiefs which daily follow from suf- 
fering them to gain the ascendancy ; and such we have 
to expect from it ourselves. There is, in fact, no drud- 
gery upon earth like that of serving the passions. Of all 
tyrants in the World, they are the most unrelenting and 
insupportable.* They will utterly debase and unman 
the soul ; debilitate and obscure its noblest powers ; 
force their natural sovereign reason to submit to the 
meanest offices, and most scandalous artifices, for their 
gratification ; compel us to resign up our truest inte- 
rests, our most solid comforts, our most valuable ex- 
pectations ; nay, even to invent principles to justify 
their extravagancies, to reject the revelation that con- 
demns them, to strip ourselves of all claim to immor« 
tality, to doubt every thing, to dispute every thing ex- 
cept their commands. 

To avoid these dreadful mischiefs, which are by no 
means exaggerated, there is no other way left, but ta 
resolve with St. Paul, on " keeping under our body, 
*' and bringing it into subjection." But this, too, 
though attended at the last with the happiest conse- 
quences, is not, however, without its difficulties- 
These, indeed, to all are not the same ; there is, un- 
doubtedly, a difference in the constitution of our minds,, 
as well: as of our bodies ; and some men are blest with 
such singularly happy dispositions, such sober desires,, 
such tractable and obedient inclinations, that, with a 
common degree of prudence and circumspection, and 



392 SERMON XXXL 

Christian discipline, they preserve the utmost tranquil- 
lity and order in the soul, go on uniformly, and almost 
without interruption, in the discharge of their duty, 
and find the ways of Religion *' to be ways of pleasant- 
^' ness, and all her paths to be peace." Blest, indeed, 
beyond measure, are such persons as these, infinitely 
better provided for the journey of life, and infinitely 
better furnished with the proper materials of happiness 
than those who are generally much more envied, but 
with much less reason ; those wdio are favored with 
riches, genius, rank, or power. These are contempti- 
ble things compared to the inconceivable comfort of a 
well-ordered mind, and well-governed afi:ections, which, 
in a work of infinite importance that must be done, 
leave us nothing but what it is extremely easy to do. 
But with the generality of mankind, this is far from 
being the case. Almost every one finds within him- 
self some one unruly passion at least, \^hich is conti- 
nually disturbing his repose, and endangering his inno- 
cence ; and which, without the utmost vigilance and 
resolution, he finds it impossible to subdue. Even he 
who '' delights in the law of God after the inward man, 
'^ frequently sees another law in the outward man, war- 
** ring against the law of his mind, and bringing it in- 
" to captivity to the law of sin." Unable to rescue 
himself from this wretched slavery, and equally unable 
to support the consequences of submitting to it, no 
wonder if such an one, in the utmost agony of mind, 
cries out with St. Paul in his assumed character, 
<< Wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me 
'* from the body of this death ?" Thanks be to God, 
through Jesus Christ our Lord ; there is one that can, 
and will deliver you, even the Redeemer that died for 
you. He it is who will do what no other moral guide 
can do for you ; will both enable you, by additional 
supplies of strength, to overcome those lusts which war 
against your soul, and will also crown that victory by 
a reward more than adequate to the pain of the con- 
flict. If Christianity requires from its votaries a high- 
er degree of sanctity and purity^ and a stricter com- 



SERMON XXXI. 393 

mandover the passions than any other JRellgion, it has 
a right to do so ; because it affords proportionably 
greater helps towards accomplishing that great work, 
and a proportionably greater prize to recompence the 
labor of it. For however severe this struggle with 
our appetites may be to us, and severe enough, God 
knows, it sometimes, is, yet it is our comfort, that if 
we endure to the end, *' those light afflictions which 
*' are but for a moment, shall work for us a far more 
*' exceeding and eternal weight of glory." This single 
consideration is enough to make us *' more than con- 
*' querors through Christ that strengtheneth us." For 
who that has in view immortal joys and incorruptible 
crowns, can repine at the conflict he must go through 
to obtain them ? Who, thatprofesses himself in earnest 
a disciple of Christ, can murmur at the hardship of 
mortifying his passions, when even they who strive for 
the mastery in the most trivial contests, and for the 
silliest rewards, are temperate in all things ? The in- 
stance produced in the text to prove this, was full to 
the purpose, was peculiarly calculated to strike the 
Corinthians, being a familiar, and, as it were, domestic 
fact, within the compass of their own observation. Its 
force is very litde, if at all, abated, when applied to 
ourselves ; but if we have a mind for similar instances 
nearer home, they are to be found in abundance. We 
may see numbers of our fellow-creatures, on everv side 
^f us, undergoing the greatest labors and inconve- 
niences in pursuit of the most trivial and worthless ob- 
jects. We see the vicious man frequently taking more 
pains, and struggling through greater distresses, in or- 
der to gratify his passions, than it w^ould cost him to 
subdue them. We see the avaricious man tormenting 
himself with continual care and anxiety, submitting to 
the meiAnest and most sordid artifices to acquire wealth 
and to retain it ; practising severer mortifications than 
the utmost rigor of monastic discipline would exact, 
denyinghimself not only the most innocent gratifica- 
tions, but the common necessaries of life ; and some- 
times even perishing for want in the midst of abundance. 

Bbb 



594 SERMON XXXI. 

And what is the great object of all this vohintary self- 
denial ? It is to amass a hoard of wealth which he has 
not the spirit to use in this world, nor the power of 
carrying with him into the next. 

We see others who cannot justly be charged with 
avarice ; yet stimulated by the ambition of raising 
themselves and their families to opulence and distinc- 
tion, and with that view sacrificing their youth, their 
ease, their health, their comfort, the best and happiest 
part of their days, to the labor of some most pain- 
ful employment, which at last, perhaps, rewards 
them with a fortune, when disease, or old age, or death, 
render them incapable of enjoying it. 

We see the man of adventure and of enterprize pe- 
netrating the most remote and inhospitable reigions of 
the earth, exposing himself to unwholesome climates 
and untried oceans, encountering the dangers of rocks 
and tempests, of famine and disease, of treachery and 
violence from unrelenting savages; and all this in the 
pursuit of knowledge or of emolument, which seldom 
answer his expectations, or of a visionary fame, which 
perhaps commences not, till he is gone '' to that land 
'* where all things are forgotten." 

These are instances of self-denial which we have 
every day before our eyes ; and shall we, then, be de- 
terred from the pursuit of our eternal interests, and of 
immortal glory, by the restraints and the difficulties 
attending our Christian warfare, when w^e see mip 
voluntarily and cheerfully encountering far greater 
hardships, and far severer trials for the sake of acqui- 
ring w^hat appears to them most valuable in this life, 
but which they find in the end to be delusive and un- 
satisfactory ? 

It is, in short, a vain and a foolish attempt to think 
of separating, in any instance, great labor and difficulty 
from great attainments. And the more valu^able the 
acquisition, the more severe are the hardships that 
obstruct the way to it. The lowest mechanic arts can 
never be carried to any degree of perfection without 
much toil ; works of imagination^ intellectual accom- 



SERMON XXXT. 39S 

plishments, require still more ; virtue and religion, as 
being the greatest ornaments of our nature, most of all. 
But then the reuard is in proportion to the labor ; and 
to renounce the one through a cowardly fear of the 
other, is one of the meanest thoughts that can enter 
the human mind. 

It is hard sometimes, it is confessedly hard, to deny 
a craving appetite, and to subdue a vicious habit ; but 
is it not still harder to lose everlasting happiness for a 
momentary indulgence ; and, like the wretched Esau, 
to sell Heaven in reversion for a mess of pottage ? 

Let us eat and drink, says the voluptuary ; let us in- 
dulge without delay, and without reserve, every appe- 
tite of our nature, for ** to-morrow we die," to-mor- 
row we may cease to exist, and all possibility of any 
further enjoyment will be for ever gone. Let us, then, 
take our full measure of it while we can. ** Let us 
** enjoy the good things that are present. Let us fill 
*' ourselves with costly wines and ointments^ and 
** let no flower of the spring pass by us. Let us 
*^ crown ourselves with rose-buds before they be 
*' withered. Let none of us go without his part of 
*' our voluptuousness. Let us leave tokens of our 
^' joyfulness in every place ; for this is our portion, 
** and our lot is this*." This language cannot be 
wondered at, from the man who rejects all idea of a 
future existence. But it would be folly and madness 
in him, who believes the Christian doctrine of a re- 
surrection, and a retribution in another world. To 
him the conclusion, from the very same premises, must 
be a directly opposite one. It must be plainly this ; 
Let us keep our hearts with all diligence, and restrain 
our passions within the bounds of duty, for to-morrow 
we may die ; to-morrow we may be called to give an ac- 
count of our moral conduct to the great Sovereign of the 
Universe, who has peremptorily commanded us to be 
temperate in all things. Let this consideration, then, 
be deeply fixed in our hearts, and be constantly present 
to our thoughts., and it will, in the hour of trial, add 

* Wisdom ii. 6. 10. 



396 SERMON XXXI. 

strength to our resolutions, and fortitude to our souls. 
It is not, it must be confessed, a very easy task to 
keep that strict and steady command over ourselves 
which Christianity requires. But we must not be 
much surprized, if the rewards of Heaven are not to 
be had for nothing. Immortal glory, and everlasting 
felicity, are not such very trivial things, as to be ob- 
tained without any exertions on our part. Some price 
must surely be paid for such an acquisition, something 
must be given up in present for an inheritance of such 
infinite value in future. " There is but one paradise 
*' for men," said Mahomet, (turning away his eyes 
from the tempting prospect of Damascus) '' there is 
*' but one paradise for men, and, for my part, I will 
** not take mine in this world*." If this sensual im- 
postor could, in this instance at least, sacrifice present 
gratification even to his false notions of future happi- 
ness, well may we be content to endure a little tempo- 
rary self-denial for the sake of a recompence hereafter, 
-perfect in its nature, and endless in its duration. It is 
true, indeed, that taking all things into the account, the 
yoke of our divine Master is easy, and his burthen is 
light. Yet still there is a yoke, there is a burthen to 
bear. We are to take up our cross, and on that cross 
we are to crucify our affections and lusts. In the sucr 
cessive stages of our existence here, successive adver- 
saries rise up to oppose our progress to Heaven, and 
bring us into captivity to sin and misery. Pleasure, 
interest, business, power, honor, fame, all the follies and 
all the corruptions of this world, each in their turn, assail 
our feeble nature, and through these we must manfully 
fight our way to the great end we have in view. But the 
difficulty and the pain of this contest will be infinitely les- 
sened, by a resolute and vigorous exertion of our pov^^ers, 
and our resources at our first setting out in life. If we 
.strenuously resist those enemies of our salvation that 
present themselves to us in our earliest youth, all the 
rest that follow in our mature age will be an easy con- 
quest. On him, who in the beginning of life has kept 

^ * Maundrell, p. 12L 



SERMON XXXI. 397 

himself unspotted from the world, all its subsequent 
attractions and allurements, all its magnificence, wealth, 
and splendor, will make litde or no impression. A 
mind that has been long habituated to discipline, re- 
straint, and self-command, amidst far more powerful 
temptations, will have nothing to apprehend from such 
assailants as these. But our great and principal secu- 
rity is assistance from above, which will never be denied 
to those who fervently apply for it. And with the om- 
nipotence of divine grace to support us, and an eter- 
nity of happiness to reward us, what is there that can 
shake our constancy, or corrupt our fidelity ? 

Set yourselves, then, widiout delay, to acquire an 
early habit of strict self-government, and an early in- 
tercourse with your Almighty Protector. Let it be 
your first care to establish the sovereignty of reason, 
and the empire of grace, over your souls, and it will 
soon be no pain to you ; but, on the contrary, a real 
pleasure " to be temperate in all things." Watch ye, 
stand fast in the faith, quit yourselves like men, be 
strong, be resolute, be patient. Look frequently up to 
the prize that is set before you, lest ye be wearied and 
faint in your minds. Consider, that every pang you 
feel on account of your duty here, will be placed to 
your credit, and increase your happiness, hereafter. 
The conflict with your passions will grow less irksome 
every day, a few years will put an entire end to it, and 
you will then, to your unspeakable comfort, be enabled 
to cry out with St. Paul, '* I have fought a good fight, 
'' I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. 
" Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of right- 
** eousness, ^vhich the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall 
^' give me at that day," 



SERMON XXXII 



Matthew xxvii. 54. 



Truly this was the Son of God. 



E have here a testimony of the divine character 
of our blessed Lord, which must be considered 
as in the highest degree impartial and incorrupt. It is 
the testimony not of friends, but of enemies ; not of 
those who were prepossessed in favor of Christ and his 
Rehgion, but of those who, by habit and education, 
were prejudiced, and strongly prejudiced against them. 
It is, in short, the voice of nature and of truth ; the 
honest unpremeditated confession of the heathen centu- 
rion, and the soldiers under him, whom the Roman 
governor had appointed as a guard over the crucifixion 
of our Lord. So forcibly struck were these persons 
with the behavior of Jesus, and the astonishing cir- 
cumstances attending his death, that they broke out 
involuntarily into the exclamation of the text, " Trulj 
*' this was the Son of God.'' 

Different opinions, it is well known, have been en- 
tertained by learned men concerning the precise sense 
in which the centurion understood Christ to be tbe Son 
of God. But without entering here into any critical 
niceties (which do not in the least affect the main ob- 
ject of this discourse) I shall only observe in general, 
that even after making every abatement which either 
grammatical accuracy, or parallel passages, may seem 
to require, the very lowest meaning we can affix to the 



SERMON XXXII. S99 

text, in any des:ree consistent with the natural force of 
the language, and the magnitude of the occasion is this; 
that the centurion, comparing together every thing he 
had seen, and rising in his expressions of admiration, 
as our Lord's encreasing magnanimity grew more and 
more upon his observation, concluded him to be not 
only a person of most extraordinary virtue, and most 
transcendent righteousness, but of a nature more than 
human, and bearing evident marks of a di'Duie originaL 

That his conclusion went at least so far as this, will 
appear highly probable from considering the two dis- 
tinct grounds on which it was founded. 

The first was, the attention with which the centuri- 
on appears to have marked the whole behavior of our 
Lord during the dreadful scene he passed through, 
from the beginning to the end of his sufferings upon 
the cross. He placed himself, as St. Mark informs 
us, oi)er against Jesus. From that station he kept his 
eye constantly fixed upon him, and observed, with 
anxious care, every thing he said or did. And when 
he saw the meekness, the patience, the resignation, the 
firmness, with which our Lord endured the most ex- 
cruciating torments ; when he heard him at one time 
praying fervently for his murderers ; at another dis- 
posing, with dignity and authority, of a place in para- 
dise, to one of his fellow-sufferers -, and, at length, 
with that confidence which nothing but conscious vir- 
tue, and conscious divinity, could, at such a time, in- 
spire, recommending his spirit into the hands of his 
heavenly Father ; from these circumstances, w hat 
other inference could the centurion draw than that 
Jesus was not merely a righteous but a heavenly -borji 
person ? 

But there was another, and that a still more power^ 
ful proof of our Lord's celestial origin, which offered 
itself to the centurion's notice ; I mean the astonishing 
events that took place when Jesus expired ; the agita- 
tion into which all nature seemed to be thrown, the 
darkness, the earthquake, the rending of rocks, the 
opening of graves, miracles which the centurion con- 



400 SERMON XXXII. 

ceived, and justly conceived, were not likely to ht 
wrought on the death of a mere mortal^. 

And, indeed, it must be acknowledged, that the 
miracles recorded, and the prophecies accomplished, 
in the history of Christ, are the two great pillars on 
which our faith in him must principally rest. But as 
an enquiry into this sort of proof, would lead us into 
an argument much too extensive and too complex for 
our present purpose, I shall content myself with en- 
larging a little on that other kind of evidence above- 
mentioned, the character and conduct of our divine 
Master. Of this the centurion saw nothing more per- 
haps than the closing scene. And if this operated so 
forcibly, as it seems to have done, on Ms mind, how 
powerfully must ours be affected, by taking into the ac- 
count the virtues which Jesus displayed through life,- 
as well as those he manifested at his death ? We mav 
reasonably expect, that it will at once confirm the faith 
of those who believe, and produce conviction in those 
who do not. 

Were we only to say of our Saviour, v;hat even Pi- 
late said of him, tbat we can find no fault in him, that 
the whole temper of his soul, and the whole tenor of 
his life, were absolutely blameless throughout ; that 
from the first moment of his birth, to his last agony on 
the cross, he never once fell into the smallest error of 
conduct, never once spake unadvisedly with his lips ; 
were we, I say, to confine ourselves solely to this nega- 
tive kind of excellence, it is more than can be said of 
any other person that ever yet came into the world. 
But great and uncommon as even this sort of perfec- 
tion is, it forms but a very small part of that which 
belonged to Jesus. He was not only exempt from eve- 
ry the slightest failing, but he possessed and practised 
every imaginable virtue that was consistent with his 
situation ; and that, too, in the highest degree of ex- 
cellence to which virtue is capable of being exalted.- 
That idea of complete goodness which the ancient phi-^ 
losophers took so much fruitless pains to describe, and 

* Sse Dr. Doddridge's note from Eisner in his exposition of this j-asFuge. 



SERMON XXXII. 401 

which they justly thought would so strongly attract the 
affections of men if it could be made visible, was in 
the person of the Holy Jesus, and in him only^ since 
the world began, presented to the eyes of mankind. 
His ardent love for God, his zeal for the service, his 
resignation to the will, his unreserved obedience to 
the commands of his heavenly Father ; the compas- 
sion, the kindness, the solicitude, the tenderness, he 
showed for the whole human race, even for the worst 
of sinners and the bitterest of his enemies ; the perfect 
command he had over his own passions ; the consum- 
mate prudence with which he eluded all the snares that 
were laid for him ; the wisdom, the justness, the deli- 
cacy of his i-eplies ; the purity and the gendeness of his 
manners : the sweetness yet dignity of his deportment: 
the mildness with which he reproved the mistakes, the 
prejudices, and the failings of his disciples ; the tem- 
per he preserved under the severest provocations from 
his enemies ; the patience, die composure, the meek- 
ness, with which he endured the cruellest insults, and 
the grossest indignities ; the fortitude he displayed un- 
der the most painful and ignominious death that hu- 
man ingenuity could devise, or human malignity inflict; 
and that divinely charitable prayer which he put up for 
his murderers in the very midst of his agony : '* Father, 
** forgive them, for they know not what they do :" all 
these, and a multitude of other peculiar excellencies in 
his character, (which it is impossible here to enume- 
rate,) concur to render him, beyond comparison, the 
greatest, the wisest^ and the best, of men. 

Considered more particularly as a public teacher, 
what an understanding must that have been, and whence 
enlightened, from which so sublime and perfect a sys- 
tem of piety and morals, as that of the Gospel, proceed- 
ed, excelling not only all the discoveries of men, and 
the most perfect systems of Pagan morality, but all the 
revelations of God made before him*. 

* For the principal and most valuable part of the six following pages, I 
am indebted to my late cxceUent friend and patron Archbi$hop Seeker, 

Ccc 



mi SERMON XXXIL 

But further still. How astonishing, and from what 
source inspired, must the mind of that man be, who 
Gould entertain so vast a thought in so low a condition, 
as that of instructing and reforming a whole world ; a 
world divided between atheism and superstition, but 
universally abandoned to sin ; of teaching the whole 
race of mankind to live soberly, righteously, and godly 
here, and leading them on to an eternity of happiness 
hereafter ? How contemptible a figure do they, who 
affected to be the conquerors of the world, make, when 
compared with him who undertook to be the saviour of 
it ? Then, in the execution of this immense design, 
what condescension without meanness, what majesty 
without pride, what firmness without obstinacy, what 
zeal without bitterness or enthusiasm, what piety with- 
out superstition; how wonderful a combination of 
seemingly most opposite^ if any could be opposite, vir- 
tues ; how exact a temperature of every thing great, 
and venerable, and lovely, in his soul ! And another 
very important and remarkable consideration is,, that all 
these admirable qualities appeared perfecdy easy and 
natural to him, and seemed not to require the least exer- 
tion of his mind to produce or to support them. And 
the case was the same in his discourses and his instruc-- 
tions. No emotion when he delivered the most sublime 
and affecting doctrines, the most comfortable or most 
terrifying predictions. The prophets before him faint- 
ed and sunk under the communications which they re- 
ceived from above* But truths that overwhelmed the 
servants of God, were familiar to his Son. Composed 
on the grestest occasions, respectable even on the leastj, 
he was at all times the same ; and the uniform dignity 
and propriety of his behavior throughout, evidently 
flowed from the inbred grandeur and rectitude of his 
mind* Tried he was every way (and that in so public 
a life perpetually) by wicked men, by the wicked one, 
by fi lends as w ell as by enemies ; but far from being 
overcome, never once disconcerted, never once embar- 
rassed, but calmly superior to every artifice, to every 
temptation, to every difficulty. 



SERMON XXXII. 403 

Well, then, may we ask, even after this very' s^m 
iSLnd very imperfect sketch of our Saviour's character, 
-*' whence has this man these things, and what wisdom 
** is this, that is giv^n unto him ?" He had evidently 
none of the usual means or opportunities of cultiva- 
ting his understanding, or improving his heart. He 
was born in a low and indigent condition, without ed- 
ucation, without learning, without any models to form 
himself upon, either in his own time, and his own 
country, or in any records of former ages, that were 
at ail likely to fall into his hands. Yet notwithstanding 
this, he manifested and supported invariably through 
life such wisdom and such virtue as were never before 
found united, and, we may venture to say, never will 
be again united in any human being. The conse- 
quence, then, is unavoidable, and one of these two 
things must be true. Either the character of our Lord, 
as drawn in the Gospels, must be absolutely ideal and 
fictitious, existing no where but in the imagination of 
those who drew it ; or else the person to whom it re- 
ally belonged must be endowed with powers more than 
human. For never did mere mortal man either speak 
or act as Jesus did. 

If we take the former part of the alternative, and 
affirm, that the portrait of our Saviour, as drawn in 
the Gospels, is an ideal one ; where, in the first place, 
shall we find the man that could draw it ? where shall 
we find the man, who, by the mere force of ima- 
gination, could invent a character at once so abso- 
lutely perfect, and so truly original ? The circumstan- 
ces of his uniting the divine and human nature in one 
person, and of his being at one and the same time the 
Messiah of the Jews, and the Instructor, the Redeemer, 
the Mediator, and the Judge of Mankind, are so very 
peculiar, and so perfectly new ; and yet all these seve- 
ral parts are so well supported, and preserved so dis- 
tinct, and every thing our Saviour said or did is so ad- 
mirably accommodated to each, that to form such a 
character as this, without any original to copy it from, 
exceeds the utmost stretch of human invention. Even 



404 SERMON XXXII, 

tnPbest of the Greek and Roman writers never pro 
duced any thing to be compared with it, either in point 
of originality or of excellence, though they frequently 
exerted themselves to the utmost in forming beautiful 
portraits of wisdom, greatness, and goodness of mind^ 
sometimes in the way of compliment, sometimes of 
instruction. But however some extraordinary genius, 
in the polite and learned nations of the world, might 
have succeeded in such an attempt, let it be remcm- 
bered that the historians of Jesus were Jews, natives 
of a remote, and, in general, unlettered corner of the 
world. How c^mG tbey by such extraordinary powers 
of invention ? They have never shown such powers in 
any other instance. Not even the sublimest of their 
own sacred books equal, in this respect, the history of 
the Gospel ; much less their apocryphal writings, much 
less Philo and Josephus, though instructed in Pagan 
literature and philosophy. And as to the succeeding 
rabbies, they have not given the history of a single 
person that is not over-run with wildness and absurdi- 
ty. Or if we think it possible, that one Jtw, at least, 
might be found, who, with the help of extraordinary 
talents, and a better education than any of the rest ever 
had, might do so much more than any of the rest ever 
did, what color can there be for applying this to the 
Evangelists, to those who have been so often and 
so opprobriously, called the publicans, the tent-makers, 
and the fishermen of Galilee ? Tbey had never studied 
at Athens or at Rome. Tbey had no superior talents, 
no learning, no education, no skill in designing or co- 
loring ideal characters. It is not most assuredly, it is 
not men such as these that invent. 

Nay, further still, had they been ever so capable of 
forming such a character as that of our Saviour, what 
reason in the world is there to imagine, that they would 
have ascribed it to their Messiah. They expected him 
to be of a spirit and a behavior widely different from 
that of the meek, and humble, and passive Jesus. 
They expected an enterprizing and prosperous warrior, 
avenging the injurious sufferings of his countrymen^ 



SERMON XXXIL 405 

trampling the nations under his feet, and cstabHshing 
the Jewish empire, and with it the Jewish law, through- 
out the world. Possessed as they were with these no- 
tions, instead of drawing for their promised Deliverer 
such a portrait as the Gospel presents to us, had they 
seen it ready drawn, and been asked whose it was, he 
would have been the last person upon earth for whom 
they would have conceived it intended. 

, Besides, what conceivable inducement could the sa- 
cred historians have to impose an imaginary personage 
upon the world ;#and why, above all, should they per- 
severe in this imposition, when they saw and felt that 
hatred, and persecutions and death, were the certain 
consequences of their maintaining the reality of a cha- 
racter, w^hich they knew all the while to be a mere 
phantom of their own creation, and could have saved 
themselves by confessing it ? But even if it were pos- 
sible that human creatures might, contrary to all hones- 
ty, and all interest, be thus unaccountably bent on de- 
ceiving, we have as full evidence as can be, that the 
Evangelists were not so. There is manifesdy an air 
of simplicity and godly sincerity, of plain, unorna- 
mented truth in every thing they relate ; nothing- 
wrought up with art, nothing studiously placed in the 
fairest light to attract the eye, no solicitude to dwell 
even on the most illustrious parts of our Saviour's cha- 
racter ; but on the contrary, so dry and cold a manner 
of telling the most striking facts, and most affecting 
truths, as furnishes ground to apprehend that they them- 
selves did not always distinctly perceive the divine wis- 
dom and excellence of ms^iy things said and done by 
Jesus, and recorded in their books. At least, they 
liave by no means brought them forward into view as 
they well deserved, and as men who wrote \mth a design 
would most certainly have done. This very circum- 
stance, added to the whole turn and tenor of their v^^ri- 
tings, most clearly proves, that they followed with re- 
ligious car#^, and delivered with scrupulous fidelity, 
truth and facty as it appeared to them, and nothing 
eke.. 



406 SERMON XXXII. 

It is evident, therefore, upon the whole, that our 
* blessed Lord was, in reality, the very person that 
he is represented to be in the Gospeh And as he is 
represented to have possessed a degree of perfection, 
both intellectual and moral, far beyond what human 
nature is capable of arriving at, and that, too, without 
any of the common means of acquiring such perfec- 
tion, the conclusion can be no other than this, that 
both he and his religion came from God, 

But it may still, perhaps, be said, that there is no 
necessity for supposing any thing supernatural in the 
case. He was only one of those wonderful and extra- 
ordinary characters that sometimes appear even in the 
very lowest stations ; and by the force of great natural 
talents, and a native dignity of mind, and a constitu- 
tional goodness of disposition, break out from the ob- 
scurity of their situation, and rise superior to all the 
rest of mankind. 

But besides what has been already insisted on, that 
no such character as that of Christ is to bi found in any 
nation of the Avorld, in any period of time, or any sit- 
uation of life, it must be remembered, that our Lord 
himself \?ii6. claim to something more than the character 
of a great and a good man. He laid claim to a divine ori- 
ginal. He affirmed, that he was the Son of God, and 
that He and his Father were One. If therefore, this 
was not the case, he must have been either an enthusi- 
ast or an impostor. In other words, he must have 
been a very weak, or a very wicked man. But either 
of these suppositions is utterly irreconcilable with the 
description that has just beea given of him, with every 
idea of wisdom and of goodness, which yet he has been 
proved, and is allowed to have possessed, in their ut- 
most extent. Whoever, then, acknowledges him to 
be a great, a wise, and a perfectly good man, must al- 
so, on his own piinciples allow him that divinity which 
he claimed. 

Here, then, is a proof of the divine authority of our 
Lawgiver, and our religion, which every one may com- 
prehend, and which it will not be easy for any one ta 



SERMON XXXII, 407 

withstand. Some alledge that they want leisure, and 
others that they want learning or ability, to investigate 
with sufficient care and accuracy, the prophetic, the mi- 
raculous, and the historical evidences of our faith*. This- 
indeed, is commonly nothing more than mere pretence* 
But even this pretence is taken away by the argument 
here offered to their consideration. It is involved in 
no difficulty, and requires no laborious or critical exa- 
mination, no uncommon degree of sagacity or ability to 
decide upon. Nothing more is requisite than to lay 
open the Bible, and to contemplate the character of our 
Lord, as it is there drawn with the most perfect fairness 
and honesty by the evangelists. Whoever can judge 
of any thing, can judge of this ; and we know by expe- 
rience, that it is calculated to carry conviction even m- 
to the most unwilling minds. We have seen, that even 
a Pagan centurion, when he beheld Jesus expiring on 
the cross, could not forbear crying out (and many oth- 
ers with him) " Truly this was the son of God." And 
it is very remarkable, that the contemplation of the ve- 
ry same scene, as described in the Gospel history, ex- 
torted a similar^ but still stronger confession of Christ's 
divine nature,, from one of the most eloquent of modern 
sceptics! , ^v^o ^^^^ never been accused of too much 
credulity, and who, though he could bring himself to 
resist the force even of miracles and of prophecies, yet 
was overwhelmed with the evidence arising from the 
character^ the conduct, and the sufferings of Christ, 
" Where," says he, *' is the man, where is the phi- 
losopher, who can act, suffer, and die, without weak- 
ness, and without ostentation ? When Plato describes 
his imaginary just man, covered with all the opprobri- 
um of guilt, yet at the same time meriting the subli- 
mest rewards of virtue, he paints precisely every feature 
in the character of Jesus Christ. The resemblance is so 
striking, that all the fathers have observed it, and it is 

* The proofs of Christianity depend on the laborious investigation of his- 
toric evidence, and speculative theology. History of the decline ojf the Romam 
Minpir^ vol. 3. p. 366. 

t Rosseau- 



403 SERMON XXXIL 

impossible to be deceivecl in it. What prejudice, what 
blindness j must possess the mind of that man who dares 
to compare the son of SophroniscustotheSonof Mary * 
What a distance is there between the one and the oth^ 
er ! The death of Socrates^ philosophizing calmly with 
his friends, is the most gentle that can be wished ; that, 
of Jesus expiring in torments, insulted^ derided, and 
reviled by all the people, the most horrible that can be 
imagined* Socrates taking the poisoned cup, blesses 
the man who presents it to him ; and who, in the very 
act of presenting it, melts into tears. Jesus, in the 
midst of the most agonizing tortures, prays for his en* 
raged executioners. Yes, if the life and death of Soc* 
rates are those of a sage, the life and death of Jesus are 
thoseofaGod^." 

It is not, then, the prejudice (as it has been called) of 
a Christian education, it is not the mere dotage of su- 
perstition, or the mere enthusiasm of pious affection 
and gratitude towards our Redeemer, which makes us 
discover in his character plain and evident marks of the 
Son of God. They have been discovered and ac- 
knowledged by men who were troubled with no such 
religious infirmities ; by one man who was a professed 
Pagan, and by another man who, without professing it, 
and perhaps without knowing it, was in fact little better 
than a Pagan. On the strength of these testimonies, 
then, added to the proofs which have been here addu- 
ced, we may safely assume it as a principle, that Jesus 
is the Son of God, The necessary consequence is, that 
every thing he taught comes to us with the weight and 
sanction of divine authority, and demands from 
every sincere disciple of Christ implicit belief, and im- 
plicit obedience. We must not, after this, pretend (as 
is now too much the prevailing mode) to select just 
what we happen to like in the Gospel, and lay aside all 
the rest ; to admit, for instance, the moral and precep- 
tive part, and reject all those sublime doctrines which 
are peculiar to the Gospel, and which form the wall of 
partition between Christianity, and what is called natu« 

* Emile, V. % p. 167, 



SERMON XXXII. 409 

Val religion. This is assuming a liberty, and creating 
a distinction, which no behever in the divine authority 
ci^our Lord, can on any ground justify. Christ de- 
livered all his doctrines in the name of God. He re- 
quired that all of them, without exception, should be 
received. He has given no man a licence to adopt just 
as much, or as little of them, as he thinks fit. He has 
authorized no one human being to add thereto, or di- 
minish therefrom. 

Let us, then, never presume thus to new model the 
Gospel, according to our own piirticular humor or ca- 
price, but be content to take it as God has thought fit 
to leave it. Let us admit, as it is our bounden duty, 
on the sole ground of his authority, those mysterious 
truths which are far beyond the reach of any finite 
understanding, but which it was natural ^x\dL reasonable 
to expect, in a revelation pertaining to that incompre- 
hensible Being, " the High and Lofty One that inhabit- 
"' eth eternity*." " Let us not exercise ourselves in 
" great matters, which are too high for us, but refrain 
*' our souls and keep them lowf." Laying aside all 
the superfluity and all the pride of human wisdom, '^ let 
*' us hold fast the profession of our faith without wa- 
'^ vering," without refining, without philosophizing. 
Let us put ourselves, without delay and without reserve, 
into the hands of our heavenly Guide, and submit our 
judgments, with boundless confidence to his direction, 
who is *' the way, the truth, and the lifej." Since we 
know in whom we believe ; since it has been this day 
proved by one kind of argument, and might be proved 
by a thousand others, that he is the Son of God; let 
us never forget that this gives him a right, a divine 
right, to the obedience of our understandings^ as \vell 
as to the obedience of our wi/Z?. Let us, therefore, 
resolutely beat down every bold imagination, ''every 
" high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge 
*' of God ; bringing into captivity every thought to the 
" obedience of Christ, and receiving with meekness the 
*' ingrafted word, that is able to save our souls§- " 

* Isaiah Ivil. 15. f Ps. cxxxi 1. \ John xiv. 6. § James i. 21. 

D d d 



SERMON XXXm*. 

FsALM xxvii. 16^ 

Q tarry iffou tH'e Lord*s leisure ; be strong; and he shall com-- 
fort thine heart / uTid fiut thou thy trust in the Lord. 

THAT this life is not, and was not intended to be, 
a state of perfect happiness, or even of constant 
ease and tranquillity, is a truth which no one will be 
disposed to controvert. That we are beset with dan- 
gers, and exposed to calamities of various kinds, which 
we can neither foresee nor avert, is equally certain. It 
is a fact, which, probably, most of those who now heai: 
ine know too well, from their own experience ; and: 
the rest will most assuredly know it, full time enough : 
for there cat mot be a weaker or more childish imagina- 
tion, than to flatter ourselves with the hope of passing, 
through the world without our share of those calami- 
ties, which are inseparable from mortality. Affliction ^ 
then, of one kind or other, being unavoidable, it is evi- 
dently a matter of the very last importance to every 
human being, to enquire carefully what are the best 
and most solid supports and consolations under it ; 
where they are to be found, and how to be secured. 
Now, the shortest and most effectual way of obtaining 
satisfaction on tftese points is, to apply to men of the 
best judgment, and most experience in the case ; to 
those who have themselves passed through the greatest 
variety of sufferings, have sought for every possible 

* Preached at St. Paul's on the Thanksgiving day, for his Maj,esty'*.rc- 
sovery, Apnl 23, 17^9. 



SERMON XXXin. 411 

alleviation of them that could be found, and are there- 
fore the best able to decide on the value and the effica- 
cy of the remedies they have actually tried. If we 
turn our thoughts to men of this description, we shall 
find few persons better qualified to give us complete 
information on this head, than the Royal Author of 
the text before us. He was initiated early in the school 
of adversity ; and though he was afterwards raised, by 
the hand of Providence, to a throne,, yet, in that exalt- 
ed situation, he experienced a long succession of the 
severest trials, and the bitterest afflictions, that are 
incident to human nature. How much he felt on these 
occasions, is sufficiently evident from his writings, in 
which he gives vent to the distress and agony of his 
soul in the strongest and most impassioned language 
that grief can dictate. Yet with these complaints are 
mingled generally the warmest expressions of gratitude 
-and thankfulness, for the unspeakable comforts he fre- 
quently experienced under these calamities, and the 
hopes he entertained, not only of being enabled to bear 
them patiently, but of finally triumphing over them. 
From whence, then, were these comforts and these 
hopes derived ? This is the great question ; the great 
object of our present inquiry. And the answer to it 
is in few words. They were derived from trust in 
God. This it was which he declared to be his great 
refuge in distress, his shield, his rock, his castle, his 
house of defence, his best and firmest stay under all 
his various misfortunes. This holy confidence is, in- 
deed, the most striking 3nd prominent feature in his 
character. It discovers itself in every page of his 
writings. It sometimes throws a ray of cheerfulness 
even over his gloomiest moments, and unexpectedly 
turns his heaviness into joy* *^ In the Lord put I my 
** trust," says he, *' how say ye then to my soul, that 
^' she should flee as a bird unto the hill ? The Lord is 
*' my refuge, and my God is the strength of my con- 
*' fidence. In the multitude of the sorrows that I had 
^' in my heart, thy comforts have refreshed my souL 



412 SERMON XXXIIT. 

*^ They that know thy name will put their trust in thee, 
*/ for thou, Lord, hast never failed them that seek 
*■* thee*." And again, in the words of the text, *'0 
''^ tarry thou the Lord's leisure ; be strong, and he 
*' shall comfort thine heart ; and put thou thy trust 
'* in the Lord." 

This great example, then, is a powerful recommen- 
dation of that sovereign medicine to the afflicted soul, 
Trust in God. But does Christianity also encou- 
rage us to have recourse to it ? And does it promise us 
the same consolation that the Royal Psalmist derived 
from it ? It promises to us, that if we faithfully serve 
the great Author and Preserver of our being, he will 
permit nothing to befal us but what is upon the njohole 
beneficial to us, and that ** he will make all things 
^' work together for good to them that love himf." 
He expressly tells us, that '* whom he loveth, he 
*' chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he re- 
** ceivethj." Afflictions, therefore, far from being 
any marks of God's displeasure, are proofs of his 
kindness to us. They are fatherly corrections, they 
are friendly admonitions, they are salutary, though un- 
palatable medicines. They are, in short, instruments 
in the hands of our Maker, to improve our minds, to 
rectify our failings, to detach us from the present 
scene, to fix our affections on things above, and thus 
form in us that humble and devout temper of mind, 
and unblemished sanctity of life, which are necessary 
to qualify us for the great purpose of our creation, the 
attainment of everlasting happiness in another and a 
better world. 

These considerations are a solid ground for that firm 
TRUST in the wisdom and the goodness of God, which 
wll be sufficient to support us even when his hand 
lies heaviest upon us. And we know, in fact, that it 
has supported the greatest and the best of men under 
the severest pressure of affliction. 

But great as this consolation is, our divine Religion 
has greater still in store for us. We are encouraged to 

* Ps. xi. 1. xciv. 22. jx. 10. t Rom. viii. 28. \ Heb. xii. 6. 



SERMON XXXIII. 413 

hope not only for comfort and assistance imder aiRiction, 
but sometimes also for relief, and even deliverance out 
of it. We are commanded *' to be careful for nothing; 
*' but in every thing by prayer and supplication to make 
*' our requests known unto God. We are assured, 
** that the eiFectual fervent prayer of a righteous man 
*' availeth much ; that the eyes of the Lord are over 
'' the righteous, and his ears are open to their prayer; 
*' that godliness is profitable unto all things, having 
** the promise of the life that now is, and of that which 
*' is to come ; and that if we seek first the kingdom of 
*' God, and his righteousness, all other things shall be 
" added to us^.'^ 

But how, says the disputer of this world, can these 
things be ? How is it possible that God should thus 
interpose in behalf of individuals, or even of nations, 
without either interrupting the course of nature, or 
over-ruling the free agency of his rational creatures ? 
Admitting for. a moment, this supposed difficulty ; 
who shall presume to say, that the great Governor of 
the Universe may not, if he sees fit, suspend, or alter, 
for an instant, those general laws, which he has him- 
self established t Who will venture to affirm, that on 
great and momentous occasions, which involve the 
fate, not only of the greatest persons, but of the greatest 
empires upon earth, he may not, even by extraordinary 
means, bring about such events, as he sees requisite for 
the general good ? 

But these suppositions are unnecessary. There are, 
undoubtedly, a thousand w^ays in which the Supreme 
Lord of all may, without the least violation of the or- 
dinary course of nature, give a new turn to human af- 
fairs, and produce unexpectedly, the most disastrous 
or most beneficial eftccts. He can render the most 
regular operations of the material world, and the freest 
actions of his creatures, subservient to his will ; and by 
the instrumentality of second causes, can accomplish 
every purpose of his wise and righteous government. 
He can, for instance, at particular periods, raise up 

* Phil. iv. 6. James v. 16. 1 Pet. iii. 12. 1 Tim. iv. 8. Matth. vi. 33. 



414 SERMON XXXIIL 

persons with dispositions and talents peculiar^ adapted 
to the execution of his designs. He can place them 
in circumstances and situations, and present to their 
minds objects and incitements calculated to promote 
the gracious ends he has in view. He can so dis- 
pose, adjust, and combine the common occurrences of 
life, as to draw from them whatever consequences he 
thinks fit ; and (as almost every day's experience may 
convince us) he can, by incidents the most trivial, and 
apparently the most fortuitous, give birth to the most 
important changes and revolutions on the great theatre 
of the world. 

That by these and various other means (utterly be- 
yond the reach of our conceptions) he both may, and 
will, whenever he sees it expedient, interpose in the 
concerns of men ; and that he will more particularly 
sometimes rescue his faithful servants from impending 
misery and ruin, is so far from being incredible, or 
even improbable, that it would be injurious to the 
honor and dignity of his government, it would be re- 
pugnant to all our ideas of his moral attributes, and 
even to the clearest principles of reason and sound phi- 
losophy, to suppose the contrary. 

It would be preposterous to maintain, that he has 
so entirely given up the reins of government out of hi^ 
hands, so irrevokably bound himself by fixt and im- 
mutable laws and ordinances, that he can never, in 
^ny circumstances, or on any emergency, show him- 
self plainly to be the Sovereign Ruler of the World, 
That he should thus manifest himself at proper inter- 
vals to the sons of men, not only to protect the good^ 
but to awaken the thoughtless from that forgetfulness 
of him, into which they are but too apt to fall, seems 
highly requisite, and worthy of him who is the great 
Lord of the Universe. All ages, and all nations, have 
concurred in believing such interpositions of the Al- 
mighty, and have applied to him on that belief; and 
ISevelation places the doctrine beyond all controversy. 

And, thanks be to God, these conclusions of reason, 
and these promises of Scripture, have been happily con- 



SERMON XXXIII. 415 

firmed to us by our own repeated experience. There 
is not a nation upon earth, that has been favored with 
a greater number of providential deliverances than our 
own ; and there are none of these that are impressed 
with plainer and more unequivocal marks of a divine 
interposition, than that which is now the subject of our 
thanksgivings to Heaven. Incredulity itself has been 
conipelled to own, that the hand of God has been visi- 
ble on the present occasion ; nor is the joy of the 
nation more universal, than its belief of that great and 
important truth. But above all the heart of our Sove- 
reign is deeply impressed with this conviction, that 
IN God WAS his help; and that, to his peculiar bles- 
sings on the means used for his recovery, that recovery 
is to be ascribed. Throughout the whole of his severe 
trial, his trust in God never forsook him : and be- 
fore that God he r.ow appears in this holy and venera- 
ble structure, surrounded with his faithful and affec- 
tionate subjects, to offer up in the most public manner^ 
and with a seriousness and a solemnity suited to the 
occasion, his praises and thanksgivings for those sig- 
nal mercies, which have been so recently vouchsafed 
to him, and through him to his whole kingdom. A 
spectacle more striking, more awful, more dignified,, 
more interesting, more edifying, has scarce ever been 
presented to the observation of mankind. I know 
not whether we are to except even that celebrated one 
recorded in the first book of Kings, where a great 
and a pious monarch, in the presence of his whole 
kingdom, prostrated himself before that magnificent 
edifice, which he had just erected tO' the honor of his 
Maker, and then spreading forth his hands towards 
Heaven, poured out the devout emotions of his soul, 
in that inimitable prayer delivered down to us in the 
sacred writings*. This, it must be confessed, w^as a 
scene most eminently calculated to raise the soul to- 
wards Hea%en ; to fill it with the sublimest concep- 
tions of the Deity, and to impress it w ith the live^ 
liest sentiments of veneration, piety, devotiony and 

* 1 Kings viii. Q1. 



416 SERMON XXXIIL 

gratitude. And surely effects of a similar nature, and 
little inferior in degree, may be expected from the pre^ 
sent awful solemnity. For though the two occasions 
are, it must be owned, in some respects dissimilar ; 
though we are not now met to dedicate a temple to 
God ; yet we are met, I trust, for a still nobler dedi- 
cation, for the dedication of a wpiole people, with 
their sovereign at their head, to their Almighty Pro- 
tector, their common Benefactor, and Deliverer ; for 
the dedication of ourselves, our souls and bodies, 
throughout the whole course of our future lives, to his 
worship, his service, his laws, and his religion. No- 
thing less than this can be any adequate return to our 
heavenly Father, for raising up our beloved Sovereign 
from the bed of sickness, and preserving to us, in his 
person, every thing that is dear and valuable to us, as 
Men, as Britons, and as Christians. For how is it 
possible, on such an occasion as the present, not to 
remember, or not to acknowledge, the many other in- 
valuable blessings we possess, as well as that which 
completes and confirms them all, that which we this 
day commemorate ? Are we not as a people biest be- 
yond example, and almost beyond belief? Do we not 
enjoy the purest mode of worship, the best constituted 
form of government, the most equal laws, the most 
able and most upright administration of justice ? Are. 
we not perfectly secure in our persons, our properties, 
our civil and religious liberties ? Are not our manufac- 
tures flourishing, our population encreasing, our pub- 
lic burdens gradually lessening, our agriculture highly 
improved, our commerce boundless? Are not the 
marks of peace, of comfort, of cheerfulness, of afflu- 
ence, visible on every side ; and are not our credit, 
and reputation abroad, commensurate to our prosperity 
and happiness at home ? 

If this be a true picture of our situation, hovv* can we 
ever express, as we ought, our thankfulness to the gra- 
cious Author of all these mercies ? It is not the 
observance, it is not the devotion, however ardent, 
of a single day, that can be a suflicient evidence of our 



SERMON XXXIIL 417 

gratitude. The only sure and certain proof of our sin~ 
cerity, is the reformation of our hearts, and the future 
holiness of our lives. This is a language which cannot 
be mistaken ; a language which speaks to the senses of 
mankind, and is sure of being heard and accepted at 
the Throne of Grace* In the exterior acts of worship, 
our hearts may not always accompany our lips. We 
may be lukewarm, inattentive, or insincere. But he, 
who from a principle of gratitude to Heaven, renounces 
those favorite sins, which most easily beset him, and 
devotes himself to the service of his Maker, can never 
be suspected of pretended sanctity or hypocritical devo- 
tion. Here, then, at this solemn hour, and in this sa- 
cred place, when we are offering up our thanksgivings 
to God, let us, at the same time, sacrifice, at the foot 
of his altar, our vices, our follies, our passionate fond- 
ness for diversions, our excessive attachments to any 
pursuits that tend to draw off our affections from Hea- 
ven and heavenly things : and more especially our fre- 
quent, our growing profanations of that sacred day 
which our Maker claims as his own; which is the 
great security and bulwark of our Religion ; the great 
barrier against the inroad of secularity and dissipation ; 
which ought never to be debased by unbecoming levi- 
ties, by worldly occupations, by dangerous amusements, 
by any thing, in short, that tends to desecrate the Chris- 
tian Sabbath, to obliterate that mark of discrimination, 
which divine authority, and primitive usage, have 
stamped upon it, and to sink it into the common mass 
of unhallowed days. It is a festival, we own, it is a 
most joyful festival ; but it is a rehgious one too ; and 
it should be observed, not with intemperate gaiety, nor 
yet with a gloomy and austere superstition, but with 
that rational piety, that decent, modest, chastised, and 
sober cheerfulness, w^hich so well becomes the charac- 
ter of the day ; and which (with some exceptions) has, 
in fact, usually distinguished it in this kingdom. It 
is a distinction which does honor to us as a people. It 
is what few other Christian countries can boast. It is 

Eee 



418 SERMON XXXIII. 

altogether worthy of the first Protestant Church in Eu^ 
rope ; and no reasoning, no ridicule, no false ambitioa 
to imitate the freer manners of our" neighbors on the 
continent, should ever induce us to give it up. 

But, at the same time, let not external observances 
constitute the iJdhole of our Eeligion ; let us be Chris- 
tians, not in name and appearance only, but in deed and 
in truth ; and, above all, let us cultivate that heavenly 
spirit of meekness, gentleness, forbearance, candor, 
equity and charity, which is the distinguishing character 
of the Gospel, and which ought to mark distinctly 
every part of our conduct, both public and private* 
Let it instantly banish from our hearts " all bitterness, 
*' and wrath, and clamor, and anger, and evil speaking, 
<* with aH malice ; " and let us become, what we have 
every reason upon earth to become, a contented, a 
thankful, a united, a virtuous, a religious people. Let 
this place be the grav^ of every unchristian sentiment 
and passion ; let this day be the 2era of general harmony 
and concord. We have met here in joy ; let us depart 
in peace. Let us, both as individuals and as members 
of the community (for the precept applies to us in 
^i?//6 capacities) be "kind and tender-hearted one to- 
" wards another," watchful over ourselves, respectful 
and dutiful to all our lawful superiors, grateful and 
obedient to God. 

If these be our resolutionsrespecting our future eon- 
duct, we may then safely apply to ourselves that sub- 
lime benediction with which Solomon dismissed the 
people, when the great business of the dedication was 
closed. '* May the Lord our God be with us, as he was 
" with our fathers ; let him not leave us nor forsake 
" us. That he may incline our hearts unto him, to 
" walk in all his ways, and to keep his command- 
*' ments, and his statutes, and of his judgments, which 
" he commanded our fathers. And let these my words, 
" wherewith I have made supplication before the Lord, 
*^' be nigh unto the Lord our God, day and night, that 
" he may maintain the cause of his servant, and the 



SERMON XXXIIL 419 

** cause of his people, at all times, as the matter shall 
*^ require. That all the people of the earth may know 
'* that the Lord is God, and that there is none else. 
" Let your heart therefore be perfect with the Lord 
" our God, to walk in his statutes, and to keep his com- 
^^ mandments as at this day*." 

*1 Kings, viii. 57— €1. 



SBE 



SERMON XXXIV, 



Luke x. 41, 42* 

Jesu3 answered and said unto her^ Martha^ Martha, thou art eare-o. 
Jul and troubled about many things ; but one thing is needful ; 
and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be takem 
away from her^ 

E are now once more arrived at the commence- 
ment of that season*, which the Church of Eng-, 
land has set apart for the purpose of enquiring into 
the state of our account with God, of reviewing our past 
and present way of thinking and acting with a critical 
and searching eye ; of looking well if there be any way 
of wickedness in us, of turning from it if there be, of 
confessing and lamenting our disobedience and ingrati- 
tude to our heavenly Father, of imploring his pardon, 
of entreating the assistance of his holy spirit, and under 
his guidance forming the most serious resolution^ to 
correct and amend, without delay, whatever we find 
amiss in our temper, principles, and conduct. This is 
the true spirit and meaning of the religious solemnity 
of this dayf, and the holy season which follows it ; this 
is the substance and the essence of what is called in 
Scripture language, and in the epistle we have just 
heard, '* turning to the Lord with weeping, fasting, and 
*' mourning." And what is there in all this, but that 
sort of solicitude concerning our spiritual condition, 
and our future prospects, which every man of common 

* Lent, I Ash Wednesday. 



SERMON XXXIV, 421 

sense, if he thinks them worth his notice, must see to 
be not only highly reasonable, but indispensably neces- 
sary ? Is there a man who has any important end in 
view for the advancement of his fame, his fortune, his 
rank or consequence in life, who does not frequently 
think and reflect upon it, who does not give up a large 
share of his time and attention to it, who does not often 
shut himself up in his closet to consider whether he is 
in the right road to it, whether he is taking the most 
efficacious means to accomplish his end ? We all 
know that this, and much more than this, is, and must 
be done, in such cases. And yet, in a case of in- 
finitely greater moment, we conceive all this care 
and attention to be perfectly needless. We expect 
to go to Heaven without so much as giving our- 
selves the trouble to inquire, at proper intervals, 
whether we possess the qualifications required of all 
who are allowed to enter there ; whether the course 
of action we are pursuing will lead us to the point 
we profess to have in view. The church calls upon 
us to give up a few hours at stated times, for a few 
weeks, to those great objects which we all acknow- 
ledge to be the most important that can engage the at- 
tention of a human being. But the world calls us 
another way ; it calls us a thousand different ways ; 
$[nd which call is it that we obey ? Look around and 
see what it is that occupies, and is likely to occup}^ 
for the next six weeks, the greater part of the inhabi- 
tants of this gay and dissipated metropolis. Is it re- 
tirement, is it prayer, is it self-examination, is it re- 
pentance, is it prostration and humiliation of their 
souls before God ? It is almost preposterous to ask the 
question. Some, it is true, there are, and, I trust, not 
a few, that have not yet bowed the knee to Baal ; who 
have not yet fallen down before those idols of sin, of plea- 
sure, of interest, of ambition, which the world has set 
up to worship ; who love God with all their heart, 
and soul, and mind, and strength ; who dedicate not 
only this day and this season, but a large proportion of 
every day to his service, and pay an uniform and con- 



422 SERMON XXXIV, 

stant obedience to his commands. But great numbers, 
it cannot be denied, (would to God it could) pursue a 
very different course, and think it meanness to adore 
the , God that made them. Far from rending either 
their hearts or their garments on such occasions as the 
present, they treat, with sovereign contempt, every 
ordinance of the church to which they belong ; and 
this, above all others, they aifect not only to despise, 
but to detest. They cannot bear, it seems, they shud- 
der at the very thought, they cannot bear to draw 
down imprecations, such as the service of this day 
contains, on themselves and their neighbors, and to 
pronounce their own condemnation with their own 
mouths. Absurd and thoughdess men ! Do they, then, 
imagine, that if these imprecations are not sanctioned 
by their own lips, they will be of no avail ? Frona 
whom do they originally proceed ? From God himself. 
They are the terrors, not of man, but of the Lord* 
And do the threatenings of God want the confirmation 
of man, before they can take effect ? Will not the un- 
merciful, the drunkard, the extortioner, the fornicator, 
the adulterer, the murderer, the curser of his father 
and his mother, will not these, and all the rest of the 
black catalogue of sinners enumerated this day, receive 
their due punishment hereafter, if you are only so ten- 
der-hearted, and so indulgent, as not to pronounce 
tlieir sentence here ? Alas ! that sentence is already 
pronounced by their Almighty Judge. It is recorded 
in the books of Heaven ; and though every tongue 
on earth were silent, nay, though every tongue 
should join in glossing over, and even justifying all or 
any of these crimes, that sentence will assuredly be 
pronounced on all impenitent offenders. Deceive not, 
then, yourselves with any such vain imagination, as if 
any thing you could say, or forbear to say, would alter 
one iota in the judicial decrees of the Almighty Sove- 
reign of the universe. There is, indeed, one thing 
that can change them. But that depends not on you, 
but on the sinner himself. It depends not on what he 
«ays, but on what he does. " When the wicked man 



SERMON XXXIV. 425 

** turneth away from his wickedness that he hath com- 
** mitted, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he 
** shall save his sonl alive*." This is the only way of 
averting those dreadful maledictions you have this day 
heard denounced ; and it is to bring men to this way, 
to stamp upon their souls a strong conviction of the 
danger of sin, and the necessity of a speedy repent- 
ance, that our church has thought fit to make use of 
such strong and impressive terms. It does not, it must 
be owned, prophesy smooth things. It does not, in 
a mortal disease, deceive and flatter the patient wdth 
soft and soothing palliatives. It tells him what, in his 
condition, it is highly fitting he should know, the 
plain truth in plain v/ords. It selects, out of Scrip- 
ture itself, the most awakening admonitions which that 
sacred book contains. It makes use of that inspired 
language which is quick and powerful, and sharper 
than a two-edged sword, which probes our wounds to 
the bottom, and reaches the most secret maladies of 
the heart. In fact, almost the whole of the service of 
this day, which has been so often, and so unjustly cen- 
sured, is expressed in the very words of Scripture ; 
and whoever thinks fit either to condemn or to ridicule 
it, is not condemning the English liturgy, but the 
word of God. 

But I am, perhaps, taking up too much of your 
time in combating this pretended objection to the forms 
of the day. The real objection, I apprehend, does 
not lie here. It lies much deeper. When so much 
pains are taken to find fauh Vv^ith words and phrases 
taken from holy writ, it creates a strong suspicion, that 
all is not as it should be in another place. Let us con- 
fess the truth. The fault is not in our Common Pray- 
er-books, but in our hearts. '' My brethren, if our 
** hearts condemn us not, then have we confidence 
** towards Godf ;" then shall we have confidence to 
look his terrors steadily in the face, and to join, with- 
out fear, in the strongest denunciations against sin that 
the church can prescribe to us. But if our hearts con- 

* Kzek. xviw. 27. f. 1 Jckn, iii. 21. 



424 SERMON XXXIV. 

demn us, if they reproach us with habitually indulging 
irregular desires of wealth, of pleasure, or of power^ 
with neglecting or insulting our Maker, and trampling 
under foot his nnost sacred laws, no wonder thai our 
lips tremble, and our souls sink within us, M'hile we 
repeat his awful judgments against such offences. The 
true way, then to remove all obstacles to a proper inter- 
course between God and us at this time, and at all times, 
is to pluck up from our hearts those evil habits, and 
criminal passions, that bar up our access to the throne 
of grace. The chief impediments to this intercourse 
are vice, pleasure, and business. The two first of these 
I have considered in some former discourses from this 
place*. The last will be the subject of what I have 
now to offer to your consideration. 

With this view I have chosen the history of the two 
sisters Martha and Mary ; a history with which you are 
all so perfectly well acquainted, that it is needless to 
recite the particulars of it. Martha, we know, was so 
overwhelmed with family cares and embarrassments, so 
immoderately anxious to provide an entertainment wor- 
thy of her illustrious guest, so cumbered, as our version 
very energetically expresses it, with much sermng^ that, 
like many others engaged in the bustle of active life, 
she conceived the business she was employed in to be 
the most important of all human concerns. She fanci- 
ed that every thing else ought to give way to it, and that 
her sister Mary was most miserably wasting her time 
by sitting at the feet of Jesus, and listening to his hea- 
venly conversation. How astonished, then, and mor- 
tified must she be, when, on calling out for her sister 
to help her, she received from our Lord, that well- 
known reproof, mingled, however, with the most affec- 
tionate and salutary advice to her, and to all those that 
happen to entertain similar sentiments, and to be in 
similar circumstances, with herself. '* Martha, Mar- 
*' tha, thou art careful and troubled about many things, 
*' but one thing is needful ; and Mary hath chosen that 
*^ good part, which shall not be taken av/ay from her.'* 

* See Sermons 14 and 31. 



SERMON XXXIV. 425 

The one thing needful, then, we see, is an earnest 
desire of spiritual instruction and spiritual improve- 
ment, or, in other words, a serious and constant regard 
to our everlasting welfare. 

But how few are there, in comparison, who uniform- 
ly act on these principles ; and what multitudes, on the 
contrary, are there m ho are so completely entangled in 
the various occupations of a busy and a tumultuous 
life, that, they are, like Martha, much more disposed 
to cry out for help in their worldly employments, than 
to take away any part of their attention from them to 
bestow on the concerns of another life. 

That the pursuits these people are engaged in may- 
be both important and necessary, I mean not to contro- 
vert or deny ; but the question, then, is, which is 7nost 
important and most necessary, the business of this life, 
or the business of the next. If our temporal and spi- 
ritual interests happen to interfere, we are not, I think, 
any where commanded to give the preference to our 
worldly concerns. It may be said, perhaps, that it 
would be very ridiculous to sit still, and leave our tem- 
poral affairs to Providence, expecting that God should 
feed and clothe us, as he feeds the fowls of the air, and 
clothes the lilies of the field. But it would, I am sure, 
be more ridiculous, and much more dangerous, to leave 
our spiritual welfare to God, that we might, in the 
mean while, carry on our worldly business without in- 
terruption. We have abundantly more reason to hope, 
that life may be supported without incessant toil and 
drudgery, than that we should arrive at heaven without 
setting one foot forwards ourselves in the way that leads 
to it. We are told by Christ himself, that if we seek 
first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, all 
those things (that are really necessary) shall be added 
unto us*. But we are no where told, that if we seek 
first the things of this world, the kingdom of God, and 
all its immortal glories, shall be thrown into our hands, 
without any efforts on our part to obtain them. Eter- 
nal life, and endless felicity, are not things of such very 

* Mattb. vl. 3">. 

F f f 



426 SERMON XXXIV. 

small consequence as to be given us gratuitously over 
and above what we can acquire in this world, by be^ 
stowing our whole attention upon it. 

Let it be remembered, too, when we are comparing 
this life and the next, that in pursuit of our present in- 
terests, be our industry ever so great, we may chance to 
fail of success. The most indefatigable worldling that 
ever lived, may, after all his drudgery, be disappointed 
of his aim ; may, by a thousand accidents not in his 
if)ovver to foresee, or prevent, be deprived of the fruits 
of his labors, or rendered incapable of enjoying them. 
And when he has lost this world, he has lost every 
thing. He has no share or inheritance in the next. 
He has taken no pains concerning it, and can therefore 
expect nothing from it. He can draw from it no sup- 
port or consolation under the loss he has sustained. 
Whereas the truly devout and reHgious man has no 
reason to be in any pain about his temporal affairs. If 
they succeed, it is very well ; it is so much clear gains : 
he has only given them a second place in his thoughts, 
he has lost nothing for the sake of them ; his condition, 
in this life, is so much the better ; his prospects here- 
after not at all the worse. If his views here are frus- 
trated, he has something to comfort him ; he has se- 
cured a happiness in reversion which cannot be taken 
away from him ; he is not afraid of any evil tidings, 
for his heart standeth fast and believeth in the Lord. 
Nay, even supposing the very worst that can happen ;: 
supposing he should, by his attention to Religion, be 
reduced to the most deplorable condition thafcan be- 
fal mortality, so as that the body should perish, whilst 
he is consulting the health of his soul ; the only con- 
sequence of this last and most grievous calamity would 
be, to put him in immediate possession of that trea- 
sure, which he had been so industriously laying up in 
heaven. But if the man of business, on the contrary, 
whilst he is heaping together the good things of this- 
world, should receive his final summons to another, it 
then behoves him to consider not only *' whose those 
" things shall be which he has provided j" but what 



SERMON XXXIV. 42T 

the lot of his soul shall be for which nothing is provi- 
ded. It is a serious, it is an alarming consideration, 
to be sumrrtoned unexpectedly to ans^ver for his con- 
duct, without having once examined it ; to enter upon 
a state of eternity, without the least preparation made 
for it. Yet such is but too often the case of that in- 
fatuated man, who (as it is expressed in the parable) 
layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich towards 
God ; who, in the "foolish security of his heart, says 
to his soul, *' Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for 
'' many years, take thine ease, eat drink, and be mer- 
*' ry." But in the very midst of this his senseless con- 
fidence, and visionary plans of future happiness, he is 
snatched away with that deserved and dreadful taunt, (the 
prelude only of something still more dreadful) "thou 
'' fool, this night shall thy soul be required of thee*." 

If, then, either our temporal or spiritual interests 
must be entirely neglected for the sake of advancing 
the other, there can be no doubt which ought to give 
place. But the truth is, they are both perfectly con- 
sistent, and may, with the utmost ease, be carried on 
very amicably together. The Scripture no where 
forbids us to make a comfortable provision for our- 
selves, our families, and our friends : on the contrary, 
it enjoins it. What it condemns, is only such an in- 
temperate pursuit of worldly things, as is destructive 
of all Religion, and not such a prudent and moderate 
regard to them as the calls of nature, of justice, and 
of humanity, ckmand. These calls must be pro- 
perly attended to, these duties must be fulfilled, to 
render us capable of any others ; and all the Gospel 
requires is, that they should be made subservient to 
our everlasting happiness. 

It is true, that some men must necessarily, from 
their indigence in private, or their elevation in public 
life, be more involved in cares than the rest of the 
world. But still we may, in the busiest scenes, find 
certain breaks and intervals, or if w^e do not find^ w^e 
Gughtto makc^)i\^v^^ which eagerly seized, and pro^ 

* Luke xii. 20. 



428 SERMON XXXIV. 

perly applied, will, through the merits of our Redeemer, 
make our final calling arid election sure. 

Some of the most essential duties of Religion con» 
sume no time at all. To keep ourselves unspotted 
from the world, to abstain from intemperance and sen- 
suality, from falsehood and detraction, to do no injury 
to our neighbor, to suppress all anger, malice, and re- 
venge, does not, in any degree, interfere with our usual 
occupations. We may do a kind action just as easily 
and expeditiously as we can do a cruel one ; nay, ge- 
nerally, with infinitely less pain and tr^ible to our- 
selves ; and, by a charitable donation judiciously be- 
stow^ed, we may make a fellow -creature happy in an 
instant, without tlie least interruption to business. By 
selecting the best and worthiest men for the manage- 
ment of our concerns, we may give countenance to 
virtue, and fix a brand upon vice. By renouncing all 
the secret craft of the world, and all the sinister, though 
not unusual,, methods of accumulating wealth, we may 
give the strongest proofs of our integrity. By content- 
ing ourselves with the reasonable emoluments of our 
professions, and our employments, we may make our 
moderation known unto all men. By refusing to take 
advantage of public scarcity and distress, and disdain- 
ing to raise ourselves on the ruin of our fellow creatures, 
we may display to the whole world a generous and dis- 
interested love of our country. We may, in short, by 
a thousand instances of this kind, " make to ourselves 
^/ friends of the mammon of unrighteousness," and 
whether we eat, or drink, or work, or whatever we do, 
may do it all in such a manner as to promote the glory 
of God, and the salvation of our own souls. 

Then, as to the positive duties of Religion, and the 
ofiices of piety and devotion, we can all of us spare one 
day in seven, at least, for the performance of them. 
By this we lose no ground in the race for riches and ho- 
nors, because most ». our competitors lose equally ; 
and they who spend it m idleness and debauchery lose 
more. We can all of us snatch a little time at mor- 
ning, and at evening, and at noon-day, for conversing 



SERMON XXXIV. 429 

with our Maker and ourselves. We can all of us, in 
the very midst of our hurry, send up a short prayer, 
or a silent ejaculation to the throne of grace ; whilst 
our hands are enfiployed, our hearts may be with God ; 
whilst our conversation is on earth, our thoughts 
and affections may be in heaven. No man, in short, 
can possibly, except by his own fault, be so circum- 
stanced as to want the time that is indispensably ne- 
tessary for working out his salvation. In cases of ne- 
cessity, we must do what we can when we cannot do 
all we wfeh. We are sometimes obliged to give up 
to business part of the time allotted for the refreshment 
of our bodies ; but still we take care to give them 
what is absolutely necessary for their support. In the 
same manner, though we cannot always indulge our- 
selves in long and regular exercises of piety and devo- 
tion yet should we never fail to feed and keep alive, at 
least, our sense of Religion by occasional supplies of 
spiritual nourishment. Such transient refreshments 
are often the sweetest, because we come to them with 
an appetite, and more will be sometimes done in them 
by men of quickness and dispatch, than in whole years 
languished out by the monastic drone in solitude and 
indolence. 

But instead of making use of every opportunity that 
offers ; instead of conforming to those occasional sea- 
sons of retirement which the church has thrown in 
their way, men of business are apt to deceive them- 
selves with resolutions of retreating some time or other 
from the world in order to give themselves up to God 
and Religion without interruption. Under this per- 
suasion, they postpone the settlement of their accounts 
with Heaven, till the wished-for time arrives, 
when they shall have nothing else to engage their 
thoughts. This is an error so very common, even to 
men of the best sense and the best intentions, that it 
well deserves a moment's consideration, before we 
dismiss this subject. 

And yet, it is very surprising, that so many should 
fall into this snare, when every one may see, from dai- 



430 SERMON XXXIV. 

ly experience, that these resolutions are scarce ever 
^fFectually carried into execution. And, indeed, how 
can it be expected ? It is the very nature of worldly 
pursuits to draw us on insensibly fronn one thing to 
another, contrary to our conviction, and even some- 
times contrary to our inclination. 

The ambitious man reaches what he thinks the sum- 
mit of his wishes ; but this summit, when gained, he 
finds will serve as a step to some higher point, which 
makes his present situation seem little in his eves. As 
he rises higher, he sees clearer and further ; he con- 
demns his first contracted views, and enlarges his de- 
sires as his prospects open. It is the same in the ac- 
cumulation of wealth, as in the acquisition of power. 
There is always a certain sum we wish to compass, a 
certain design we wish to accomphsh. That design 
is accomplished, but our wishes are not completed. 
By thus having our eyes constantly fixed on some dis- 
tant object, they are perpetually taken off from our- 
selves, and we never want a reason for neglecting our 
duty, till it becomes too late to think of it. 

Let me not, however, be understood as meaning b}'' 
this to discourage in men of the world a real desire of 
breaking away from the incumb!*ance of business, and 
dedicating themselves in earnest to the service of God 
and the duties of Religion. I mean only to caution them 
against delusive and abortive projects of this nature ; 
against trusting all their hopes of future acceptance to 
distant and visionary plans of retirement, and, in the 
mean time, living without God in the world. This is a 
risque to which no wise man ought to expose his most 
important interests. But if you sincerely wish to dis- 
engage yourself, at a convenient opportunity, from the 
cares and toils of a laborious occupation, think a little 
of the shortness and uncertainty of life, and the dan- 
ger of long procrastination. Let the period of your 
retreat be fixed in due thiie, and resolutely observed ; 
and let it not be delayed from day to day, till your 
health, and spirits, and vigor of mind and body, are 
gone ; and all taste and relish for serious reflections. 



* SERMON XXXIV. 431 

and heavenly meditations, are utterly extinguished in 
your breast. To prevent this, you must give up the 
world, before the world gives up you ; you must be 
decisive and immoveable in the plan you have formed, 
and the time you have marked out for its execution ; 
and in the mean while, in the very midst of your busi- 
ness, you must preserve some intercourse with your 
Maker, '' some communion with your own heart." 
You must seize with eagerness, and employ with alac- 
rity, the few moments you have to spare from business, 
in cultivating devout sentiments and virtuous habits, 
and sowing silently and imperceptibly, in your soul, 
the seeds of eternal life. You will then be prepared for 
the true enjoyment of a religious retreat ; you will feel 
nothing of that vacancy and languor, that disappoint- 
ment and regret, which retirement frequently produces 
in minds long debased by low cares and sordid pursuits, 
and which have brought the thing itself into disgrace 
and contempt. You will, on the contrary, find full em- 
ployment in cultivating and bringing to maturity the 
good seed that has already begun to spring up in your 
heart, and will be continually acquiring greater strength 
of mind, greater firmness of principle, greater unifor- 
mity of practice. Having already made yourself ac- 
quainted with God, you will feel yourself no stranger 
in his presence, but will, with humble confidence, com- 
mit yourself, and all your concerns, to his gracious 
guidance and protection. You will have leisure to im- 
prove your intercourse with him by frequent prayer, 
and to contemplate his power, his wisdom, his good- 
ness, in his' astonishing works of creation and redemp- 
tion, in his providential care of the universe, in his 
daily merciec to yourself in particular. 

By meditations such as these, you will find an ar- 
dent love of God kindling in your soul. Your mind 
win gradually detach itself from the present scene, and 
raise itself to Heaven and heavenly things. Your pas- 
sions will become every day more tranquil and compo- 
sed ', your affections more spiritual and refined ; your 



432 SERMON XXXIV. * 

thoughts more elevated ; your prospetfs more noble 
and exhilirating : and the peace, the comfort, the de- 
light, you will experience in a retirement such as this, 
can only be exceeded by those pure, celestial joys 
hereafter, to which they will be a prelude and an in- 
troduction. 



SERMON XXXV. 



Proverbs iii. 27. 

Withhold not good from them to nvhom it is due, rvhen it in in t/Te 
f lower of thine hand to do it. 

WHEN we reflect on that general turn to acts of 
charity and humanity which is so observable in 
this country, it may perhaps appear perfectly needless 
to recommend to our hearers the injunction contained 
in the text. If they are so well disposed, as it should 
seem they are, to do good, to what purpose are they 
exhorted not to withhold it from them to whom it is 
due ? And, indeed, if there was no other way of doing 
good but that of relieving the indigent, there would not 
often, it must be owned, be much occasion to urge 
the practice of this duty. But we must not flatter our- 
selves, that when we have distributed to the necessi- 
tous all the wealth we can spare, we have done every 
thing that the love of our neighbor requires at our 
liands. At the best, we have only performed one part, 
and that a small part, of the great, the royal law*, 
(as it is called) of Christian charity, which in- 
volves a great variety of most important and useful acts 
of kindness to our fellow- creatures. Several of these, 
though extremely easy and obvious, are, for that very 
reason, perhaps, apt to be overlooked. Some of them, 
therefore, I shall beg leave, at present, to suggest to 
your thoughts, from whence the two following good 

* James ii. 8. 



434 SERMON XXXV. 

consequences, among others may arise. The great 
and the wealthy will see, that to be truly benevolent, 
something more is necessary than liberality to the poor. 
And they who are in a humbler station of life, and who 
on that account are apt to lament their inability to do 
good, will find that there are many roads to benefi- 
cence still open to them ; and that scarce any one, 
however low^ or indigent, can want opportunities of do- 
ing good, if he w'ill but honestly make use of them. 

I. First, then, there is a negative kind of benevo- 
lence, which it is most certainly in every man's power 
to exercise if he pleases ; and that is, abstinence 
FROM MISCHIEF. As the first step towards wisdom 
is to avoid error, and towards happiness to feel no pain, 
so the first advance towards benevolence is to do no 
harm. It may seem, perhaps, a great impropriety of 
expression to dignify this with the name of benevolence. 
But if benevolence consists, as it certainly does, in con- 
tributing to the comfort and happiness of our fellow- 
creatures, there is not any one act of humanity, that will 
operate so effectually and extensively to this end, as re- 
fraining from every thing that can offend, distress or in- 
jure others. By for the greatest part of the misery we 
see in the world, arises not so much from omitting acts 
of kindness, as from committing acts of unkindness, 
and cruelty ; and were all these to cease at once, the 
effect on the general happiness of mankind would 
be somewhat similar to that inexpressible comfort w^e 
experience in ourselves on the removal of some 
violent pain. Think only what infinite mischief arises 
fi'om peevishness, ill-nature, and pride ; from detrac- 
tion, falsehood, deceit, and treachery ; from fraud and 
oppression ^ from envy, hatred, anger, lust, ambition, 
revenge, and the whole infernal flimily of malevolent 
passions. Annihilate all the evils that arise from these 
saorces, and this v/orld would be a paradise. Every 
other kind of charity wT/jld be alm.ost unnecessary. 
For it is the chief business of human compassion, to 
heal those wounds which human malignity is constant-^ 
ly inuicting. How much, then, is it to be lamented, 



SERMON XXXV. 435 

iTiat this most important branch of charity is not more 
attended to, than it seems to be ! There is no one ciia- 
racter in the world, which men are in general so am- 
bitious of having ascribed to them, as that of good-na- 
ture and benevolence. With some (especially those 
that reject Christianity, but profess themselves friends 
to virtue) this is deemed not merely the first of human 
duties ; but the only one worth their notice ; the one 
thing needful, the sum and substance of all morality and 
religion. One should naturally suppose, therefore, 
that this virtue at least, this favorite and fashionable 
virtue, would be perfectly well understood and practi- 
sed, and every the minutest branch of it most assidu- 
ously cultivated and improved. But how far this is 
from being the case, is but too apparent. The com- 
mon pretence to it is seldom any thing more than a 
little constitutional easiness of temper, a sociability of 
disposition, and a thoughtless, indiscriminate, perhaps 
even pernicious liberality. On these grounds do great 
numbers fancy themselves the kindest, the gentlest, 
the most benevolent of human beings. And 3 et, at 
the same time, these men of benevolence will not 
scruple, perhaps, where their own interest is concerned, 
to oppress and harass their inferiors without the least 
feelings of compassion or remorse, to invade their dear- 
est rights, disregard their most equitable claims, dis- 
tress them with expensive and tedious litigations, and 
crush them with the weight of their wealdi and power. 
If envy or ambition, if prejudice or party, if spleen or 
resentment, infiame their minds, they will say some- 
times the bitterest and the cruellest things of those 
^vhom they happen to dislike, will calumniate the fair- 
est and mxost unblemished characters, will misrepresent 
the best intentioned actions and designs, and give way 
to such a vehemence of temper and conduct as is utter- 
ly inconsistent with all true benevolence. If softer pas- 
sions take possession of them, these they will often in- 
dulge to the very utmost, let what will be the conse- 
quence, let who will be the sufferer. The dignity of 
virtuous innocence, the peace and comfort of families^ 



436 SERMON XXXV. 

the ties of friendship, the laws of hospitality, the sancti- 
ty of plighted vows, the happiness of those whom they 
are bound by the most solemn engagements to cherish 
and to protect, all these, and a thousand other no less 
sacred obligations, are trifles to them, are brushed away 
like the morning dew, when they stand in the way of 
their desires ; and multitudes must be made wretched 
for ever, that they may be triumphant for one mor 
ment. And yet, if the slightest injury or insult be 
offered to themselves, they take fire in an instant 5 
they pursue the offender with inextinguishable fury and 
rancor, and, whilst they are violating every hour the 
maxims of true honor, will sacrifice to notions of false 
honor the life of the dearest friend they have in the 
world- Let not these, let not any such as these, ever 
pretend to talk of humanity or benevolence. They 
are ignorant of its first principles, and have the very 
rudiments of true Christian charity yet to learn. Tho* 
to some persons, and on some occasions, they may 
perhaps be generous and kind ; yet if they are disso^ 
lute, oppressive, implacable, vindictive, the misery 
they occasion by these vices will infinitely outweigh 
all the good they do in other instances, and justly dcr 
nominate them hard-hearted and inhuman, 

II. The very first duty, then, of the benevolent 
man, is to do harm to no one. Then let him go on to 
do good to as many as he can. And he may do good 
to more persons, and in more cases, than he is perhaps 
aware of. What numberless opportunities, for in- 
stance, are there of making others happy in the daily 
commerce of life (especially in its nearest and tender- 
est connections) by an easy, affable, condescending, 
gentle, encouraging behavior and conversation. We 
may say and do the most trivial things, in such a manner 
as to give almost as much pleasure to those with whom 
we constantly live and converse, as we could do by the 
most substantial acts of kindness. And let not this 
be thought unworthy the attention of a Christian as- 
sembly. Scripture itself commands us to be courteous^ ^ 

* 1 Pet. iii. 8. 



SERMON XXXV. 437 

and the manners of our blessed Lord were not 
only mild and gentle, but graceful and captivating. 
This was the natural result of his unbounded benevo- 
lence, which is indeed the best, the only sure and solid 
foundation of true urbanity. Without real, undis^ 
seinbled good-will to others, either from principle or 
constitution, there can be no such thing as a constant 
desire to please ; and without such a desire always 
present to our minds, It is impossible we should please. 
Whoever, therefore, wishes to render himself uni- 
versally beloved and admired, must not merely 
seem benevolent ; he must be really so. When once 
he is, every thing else will generally foilo^v of 
course, without difficulty, without effort, with the least 
occasion for art, disguise, or management*. When 
all is goodness within, all must be gracious and enga.. 
ging without. When there is a fountain of genuine 
kindness in the soul, it v/ill naturally and spontaneously 
diffuse itself to every the minutest part of our behavior. 
III. They who have had much experience in the 
world, may be of infinite use to those who have had but 
litde, by giving them wise, and seasonable, and saluta- 
ry advice ; by rectifying their crude mistaken notions 
of men and things ; by instructing them in the real 
value of the blessings and the evils both of this life and 
the next ; by pointing out to them the road they are to 
take, the objects they are to pursue ; by guarding them 
against those hasty friendships, and ruinous connec- 
tions, which they are but too apt to form ; by teaching 
them, in fine, to distinguish properly between trivial, 
showy, superficial accomplishments, and those solid, 
substantial attainments, both intellectual, moral, and 
religious, which ought to engage the chief attention of 
a rational and immortal being. This world is a wide 
and turbulent ocean, full of rocks and shoals ; and 
there cannot be a kinder or more useful thing than to 
furnish those who are ready to launch out upon it with 
a proper chart and compass to direct their course. 
There are few persons who have not, in some part of 

♦ 3pch as we see recommended in the letters of a late noble Earl to his Sou. 



438 SERMON XXX¥. 

their lives, abundant opportunities of exercising their 
foenevolence and good- nature, in this way, towards 
the thoughtless and inexperienced. And they must 
have httle feeling indeed, who can see a poor giddy 
wretch running headlong down a precipice, without 
stretching out a friendly hand to snatch him from de- 
struction. 

IV. But if we are afraid of being thought meddling 
and officious, and of provoking' enmity, where friend- 
ship only was meant, there is another method of in- 
structing and benefiting others, which cannot possibly 
give offence; and that is, a good example. A regu- 
lar, virtuous, religious life, besides all the good it does 
in other respects, is a constant lesson of morality to all 
around us. It is a silent, insinuating kind of advice, 
which steals unobserved into the mind ; and its opera- 
tions, though imperceptible, are commonly most ef- 
fectual. Living under the influence of a bright exam- 
pie is to the soul, what breatliing a pure and whole- 
some air is to the body. We find ourselves mended 
and improved and invigorated by both, without any sen- 
sible impression made upon us, without perceiving how 
the happy change is brought about. When people 
offer us advice in form, it seems to argue a kind of su- 
periority which sometimes piques and offends us. We 
are apt to set ourselves^ out of mere pride, to fence and 
fight against it, and can scarce ever be ingenuous 
enough to own ourselves in the wrong when any one 
presumes to tell us that we are so. But we cannot possi- 
bly be angry at a man for taking care of his own con- 
duct, for going on in the right road himself, and lea- 
ving us to follow him or not, as we think fit. When 
virtue is thus made vissible in human form, its charms 
are too powerful to be resisted,. Instead of applying to 
the understanding, it makes its way directly to the 
heart ; and when that is once gained over, all difficulty 
is at an end. Here then, is a way of doing good, which 
is equally in the power of the greatest man and the 
meanest. He has nothing to do but to go quietly on in 
the path of duty, and he will be followed by multitudes, 



SERMON XXXV. 439 

otT whom neither argument, nor persuation, would 
ever have made the slightest impression. 

But though every one may thus make his light shine 
most usefully before men, yet the higher this light is 
placed, the wider will be its sphere, and the more ex- 
tensive its influence. They therefore, who by their 
birth, their station, their power, their wealth, their pro- 
fession, their abilities, are set, as it were, upon an emi- 
nence, and held up to the observation of the world, are 
more especially bound to take heed to their ways, since 
the good or the harm they may do by their conduct is 
inconceivable. It is very well known, that the lower 
orders of men almost constantly take the cast and color 
of their lives from those above them. The manners 
of the people, therefore, are to a great degree in the 
hands of their superiors, and may be moulded by them 
into whatever form they please. What a noble oppor- 
tunity of doing good does this afford to those superi- 
ors ! An opportunity v/hich to every man of benevo- 
lence, of public spirit, nay, even of any honest ambi- 
tion, must be such a temptation to right conduct, as 
one would think it impossible for him to Vvithstand. 
What a fair and obvious path to reputation and ap- 
plause is here marked out to the upper part of the 
world ! How easy is it for them to merit, and to obtain, 
aplace amongst the most distinguished friends and bene- 
factors of mankind, merely by Ihing as they ought ; 
by being as eminently good, as they are eminently 
great. There are it must be confessed, numbers who 
are really so ; and were those numbers to encrease irr 
the proportion they might and ought, w^e should soon 
see the infinite utility of such examples. It is an ex- 
periment that well deserves to be tried in its utmost ex- 
tent, and the reward would amply repay the labor. For 
surely there is no gratification that wealth or power can 
bestow, equal to the feelings which they must have, 
who see multitudes of their fellow-creatures growing; 
every day better and happier under their hands. It 
can be exceeded only by the unspeakable joy they Mill 
experience hereafter, when they percei\'e themselves 



440 SERMON XXXV. 

surrounded in the realms of light by those who have 
been brought there principally by their means ; whose 
grateful transports will overwhelm them with delight, 
and for whose virtues they will be rewarded as well 
as for their own. 

V. Another very easy and unexpensive method of 
being very serviceable to others is, by vindicating the 
characters of those that have been unjustly defamed and 
traduced. If the injured persons are strangers to us, 
it is generous and noble to stand up in their defence. 
If they are our friends, we are bound by the most sa- 
cred ties to repel the insults offered to their good name. 
If they are set in authority over us, it is our duty to 
rescue them from the obloquy which we know they do 
not merit. In all these respects we have, it must be 
owned at present, an ample field for our benevolence 
to work in. With opportunities of doing good in 
thisw^Y^ we are, indeed, most liberally furnished by 
the licence and malevolence of the age. For surely 
it is doing it no injustice to say, that one of its most 
distinguishing features is an intemperance in calumny, 
an indiscriminate wantonness of defamation, of which 
no other country, no other period, even in this country, 
furnishes any example. It becomes, then, every friend 
to humanity, or even to common justice, to set him- 
self with the utmost earnestness against this most un- 
christian fury of detraction. He can hardly do a 
greater kindness to individuals, or a more substantial 
service to the public, than by discouraging and repres- 
sing to the utmost every groundless slander, every un- 
merited reproach, let who will be the object, whether 
in the highest employments or the most private stations 
of life. 

VI. But though in these and many other instances 
that might be mentioned, we may do most essential 
service to our fellow-creatures, yet they who have the 
strongest claim on our benevolence, are undoubtedly 
the afflicted and distressed. To these, when pecunia- 
ry relief is all they want, it should certainly be admin- 
istered in proportion to their necessities, to our circum- 



SERMON XXXV. 441 

stances, and the right they have to expect assistance 
from us. But it frequently happens, that the kind- 
ness they stand in need of is of a very different nature. 
Sometimes they require nothing more than a little sup. 
port and countenance against some petty tyrant, that 
** deviseth mischief continually*.'' Sometimes they 
have undeservedly lost the affections of their best friend, 
whom they wish to regain. Sometimes they seek in 
vain admission to those who can alone effectually as- 
sist them* Sometimes a load of grief lies heavy on 
their minds, which calls for some compassionate hand 
to lighten or remove it, by consolation, by advice, by 
encouragement, by sympathy and condolence, by every 
tender care, every soothing expression that humanity 
can dictate. In all these cases, and a multitude of 
others that might be mentioned, true benevolence will 
accommodate itself to the various distresses that fall in 
its way ; will, with a versatility truly admirable, " be- 
** come all things to all men," and assume as many 
different shapes as there are modes of misery in the 
M'orld. It will compose the differences of friends ; it 
will arrest the violence of enemies ; it wull bring back 
the ungrateful child to a sense of his duty, the offend- 
ed parent to the feelings of affection ; *' it will visit 
** the fatherless and widows in their affliction ; it will 
*' rejoice with them that rejoice, and weep with them 
*^ that weep ;" it will protect the helpless and the weak ; 
will exert its influence, will exhaust its powders in re- 
dressing their injuries, and vindicating their rights ; it 
will facilitate their access to the seats of justice ; it will 
knock for them at the doors of the great ; it will raise 
them up friends, where they could never have thought 
of lookin,;:^ for them ; it will be as Aaron was to Moses, 
** a mouth to themf ;" it will speak those wants which 
they are unable to represent, and plead for them with 
an eloquence which nodiing can resist. The man of 
charity, in short, will not merely content himself with 
giving alms ; he will give what people are often more 
unv/illing to give, his attention, his thoughts, his care, 

* Proverbs vi. 14. f Ex. iv. 15. 

H h h 



442 SERMON XXXV. 

his friendship, his protection. These are so many in^' 
struments of beneficence that God puts into our hands 
for the benefit of others. These were intended to sup- 
ply the place of wealth ; and will, in many cases, re- 
lieve distresses which wealth cannot reach. 

To enter into a minute detail of all the various ways 
in which we may benefit mankind would be endless, 
and, indeed, in a great measure needless. For who- 
ever is possessed v\ ith a sincere desire to do good, will 
have no occasion for a monitor to suggest to him when 
and where he shall exert it. He will be no less quick 
in discerning, than eager in embracing every opportu-* 
nity of exercising his benevolence. I shall therefore 
content myself with mentioning in conclusion, only 
one more way of manifesting our good will to man-- 
kind ; which is in a very high degree important and 
beneficial ; which lies as much within the reach of 
the lowest as the highest ; and which yet both high and 
low are, I fear, but too apt to> neglect ; I mean, re- 
commending OUR BRETHREN TO GoD IN PRAYER. 

Let not the Philosopher smile at this ! It is not to 
him I speak* He, I know, is infinitely above the 
meanness of paying any homage to the great Creator 
and Governor of the workL He disdains to pray even 
for his own welfare ; how, then should he ever think 
of imploring blessings upon others ? How can he be 
expected to love his neighbor better than himself! He 
laughs at the idea of a particular providence, which 
regulates the minutest movements both of the natural 
and the moral world, and consequently looks on prayer 
as the idlest and most useless employment in which a 
human creature can be engaged. Let ns leave him, 
then, to the enjoyment of that comfortable state of 
which he has made choice ; turned adrift (as he must 
suppose himself) into a wide world, and abandoned to 
the caprice of chance and fortune, without protector, 
guide, or comforter ; widiout any Almighty Friend to 
apply to for himself, or those he holds most dear, when 
exposed to dangers, or involved in calamities, where 
all human help. is vain. Here, 1 say, let us leave him ; 



SERMON XXX\ . U% 

and let us devoutly thank God that we are not Philoso- 
phers. Let us thank God that our belief of this most 
important doctrine of a particular providence is found- 
ed, not on the cobweb subtleties of human science, but 
on that solid, immoveable rock, the Gospel of Christ. 
The Scripture informs us, that he who first created 
the world, still continues to preserve it ; that he is 
*' about our path and about our bed, and spieth out all 
*' our ways* ;" that, without his knowledge not a 
*' sparrow falls to the ground, and that the very hairs 
*^ of our head are all numberedf." To this gracious 
and Almighty Being we are commanded to pray, and 
that not only for ourselves but for others also. *' Pray 
'' one for another," says St. James. ^' Let supplica- 
*' tion, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks be 
*' made for all menj." *' Seek the peace of the city 
** where you live, and pray unto the Lord for ii||." 
What a pleasing, what a spacious field of benevolence 
is here opened to the Christian, from which the unbe- 
liever (who yet, of all others, boasts the most of his 
benevolence) absolutely shuts himself out. We think 
it a strong mark of our regard; to recommend those we 
love to some great and powerful friend, who is able 
to support and advance them in the ^\orld. But what 
earthly support or protection is to be compared to his, 
who has all the powers of nature, and all the events of 
futurity, at his command, who has the hearts of all men 
in his hand, and *' turneth them whithersoever he 
** will§." What a privilege, what an honor, what an 
indulgence is it, that we are allowed to commit those we 
love to his care and guardianship; and that we can do 
it without raising up a rival in his affections ! In the 
arms of his mercy there is room for all. He can em- 
brace in them, at once, the whole race of mankind ; 
and the more we intercede in our prayers for others, the 
surer are we of his kindness to ourselves. To him we 
seldom fail to have recourse in our own distress. 
There are cases in which we fly to him by a kind of 

* Psalm cxxxix. 3. f Matth. x. 29. 30. \ 1 Tim. i\. J,. 

II Jer. xxix 7. § Prov. xxi. X, 



444 SERMON XXXV. 

instinctive impulse ; in which without the utmost 
violence, we cannot restrain ourselves from prayer. If 
then we have any real good will to our fellow- creatures, 
we shall implore the same mercies, and with the same 
earnestness, for them that we do for ourselves. If we 
have any love for our country, we shall not fail to give 
it a place in our devotions, and to pray most ardently for 
the prosperity and stability of our Jerusalem. 

In what manner our prayers can be granted, or by 
what means God can avert calamity from those we re^ 
commend to his protection, without doing violence to 
what is called the ordinary course of nature, it is 
no concern of ours to enquire. If God has com- 
manded us to pray for others, it is our business 
not to philosophize, but to obey. Let us give 
ourselves no trouble about the course of nature. 
It is perfectly safe in the hands of its divine Author, 
There may be no difficulties to Omnipotence, where 
w^e see nothing but impossibilities. Let us leave God 
to manage his own w^orld, and perform his promises, 
as he certainly will, in his own way. All we have to 
do is, to make a faithful use of that valuable privilege 
of INTERCESSION, which he has graciously allowed 
us for the benefit^ of our fellow-creatures. The most 
indigent man may say to his neighbor, as St. Peter did 
to the cripple at the gate of the temple, ''silver and 
^' gold have I none ; but such as I have, give I thee*.'* 
My wishes, my intercessions, my prayers you shall 
have. On earth, indeed, I can do nothing ; but I will 
try to move heaven in your favor. This puts it in 
the power of the meanest member of society, if he is 
but religious and devout, to be as essentially useful, 
both to individuals and to the community, as those that 
fill the highest and most active stations of life. From 
the deepest solitute, and from the humblest cell, his 
prayers may reach the throne of God ; may there touch 
one of those celestial springs that set the world 
in motion ; may be among the reasons that in- 
duce the Almighty to give a new turn to the great 

Agts iii. 6. 



SERMON XXXV. 445 

wheels of the universe, and to rescue individuals, fami- 
lies, and empires, from destruction. Improbable, and 
even ridiculous, as this may seem to the profound rea- 
soners of this world, the Scriptures, both of the Old 
and New Testament, are full of the powerful preva- 
ience and astonishing effects of prayer ; and unless we 
absolutely renounce all faith in the Gospel, and all con- 
fidence in the promises of Christ, we must admit the 
truth of this doctrine ; we must acknowledge, that 
*' the eifectual fervent prayer of a righteous man,'' 
either for himself, or for others, *' availeth much*.'' 

Let then, every sincere Christian, unmoved by the 
cavils of the sophist, or the insults of the scorner, 
steadily and resolutely persevere in that most benevo- 
lent office of INTERCEDING for all mankind. Let 
him beseech the great Sovereign of the Universe to 
enlighten the ignorant, to strengthen the weak, to con- 
firm the doubtful, to convert the infidel, to reclaim the 
profligate, to soften the unmerciful, to restrain the vio- 
lent and vindictive, to redress the injured and op- 
pressed, to protect the innocent ; to reconcile the in- 
terests and calm the passions of contending individu- 
als and hostile nations ; to avert from this hitherto 
favored land those bitter evils with which other coun- 
tries are now so cruelly desolated and overwhelmed ; 
to direct the councils and prosper the just designs of 
those whom Providence has set over us ; to unite the 
hearts of those they govern, as the heart of one man, 
in sentiments of Christian charity, and constitutional 
obedience. Let him implore, in fine, (as he naturally 
will) the pecular blessing of the Almighty on those he 
holds most dear ; that, as our Liturgy very sublimely 
expresses it, '* through his most mighty protection, 
" both here and ever, they may be preserved both in 
" body and soul ; and that he being their ruler and 
'^ guide, they may so pass through things temp oral as 
*' finally to lose not the things that are eternal." 

* James v. 16. 
FINIS. 







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